In the Bleak Midwinter
by annapear
Summary: When Harry finds an injured Draco in the snow, he is forced to confront his own feelings.
1. I lay down on the cold ground

The snow filled Harry's gaze with a blinding white glare when he stepped out the front doors of the castle. He crossed his arms over his chest underneath his cloak, hugging his own body warmth to himself. No one else seemed to be venturing outside, besides the obligatory trough of footprints through the snow leading back and forth from the greenhouses. Classes must go on, even with Winter Holiday so close approaching. The rest of the fresh snow remained untouched, and Harry sunk in almost to his thighs as he made his way through the drifts to Hagrid's cabin.

The red and gold of his Gryffindor scarf hung about his neck, and he tensed his shoulders, trying to keep his ears from freezing off. His messy hair did little to keep his head warm, and he made a note to steal one of Hermione's house-elf hats later that evening. It was just too cold to be acceptable this winter. Harry glanced over the grounds as he trudged through the snow, surveying the frozen lake, the ice-laden Forbidden Forest. It was then that he saw a disturbance in the snow.

He hesitated for half a moment before his curiosity got the better of him. He broke off from the straight path he had been forming in the snow towards Hagrid's friendly hut, and pushed instead parallel to the tree line of the Forest. He reached the spot that had before caught his eye.

The snow was disturbed in a weaving pattern from the edge of the dark forest up to where Harry stood. Sometimes there were merely footsteps, but at other points it looked as through whoever had made the path was crawling or being dragged through the snow. The pure whiteness of the powder was marred with a dark crimson that could only be blood. Harry stood staring into the trees, wondering whether whatever it was that had made these marks had been dragged inside or walked in on their own accord. He glanced back along the path to see where the tracks had their origin.

His heart caught in his throat.

A dark patch marred the snow: a body in black robes. How had he missed it before?

Without consulting his mind, suddenly his body was sprinting toward the body; knees raised high, running footsteps falling through the powdery snow. He fell once, coating himself with the tiny ice crystals, racing alongside the path that was becoming more consistently stained red.

The figure was farther from Harry's initial position than he had realized. His lungs were burning with breathing the frigid air by the time he reached whoever it was. Harry took a moment to wipe the condensation from his glasses before looking down at the fallen student. Pale skin tinged with blue, white-blond hair stained with blood in disarray against the snow…

_No…_

Harry was on his knees in the snow, rolling Draco Malfoy onto his back. His school robes were soaked with blood, his skin even whiter than normal. "Ennerverate," Harry mumbled, pointing his wand at Draco's chest. The blond made no motion. "No," Harry said aloud this time, his heart pounding painfully. He pressed his ear to Draco's chest, desperate. The other's boy's pulse was weak but constant, his breathing ragged.

Harry glanced about himself, eyes searching for any living soul. Finding no one in the snowy landscape, he hoisted Draco's tall frame into his arms and took a few steps toward the castle, promising warmth and help.

But after a few paces, he stumbled and dropped Draco's dead weight. "I'm a bloody wizard," he muttered to himself after a helpless minute. He remembered last year when Kingsley had used his patronus as a messenger.

He raised his wand, and cried, "Expecto Patronum!" A thin silvery mist shot out the end of his wand, quickly dispersing in the freezing air surrounding him. He let out an exasperated breath, forming a cloud of mist around his head. He reached for a happy memory, hands stinging from the cold. He glanced down at the seemingly lifeless body by his side. He imagined the blond safe, healthy, warm, sitting beside a fire. Harry walked up behind him, sliding his arms around his chest, kissing him on the silvery temple…

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled again, and this time his usual stag burst forth. "Get to the Hospital Wing! Find help!" Harry instructed the shining animal, and it galloped off to do his bidding.

Harry was still on his knees beside the unconscious Draco. He skin was turning a terrifying grey, and the snow beneath them was soaking up blood. Harry quickly stripped off his cloak, leaving only muggle jeans and a sweater beneath. He wrapped the thick black fabric around Draco's body, hoping to give him some semblance of comfort.

When an icy wind burst over the grounds, though, Harry was reduced to a shuddering mess, wrapping his hands in his scarf. He huddled in the snow alone for a minute, before hoisting Draco's body into his lap, holding onto the young man to keep both Draco and himself warm. The former's blood was warm and sticky beneath his fingers, and he tried to ignore the metallic smell stinging at his nose when he pulled the blond even closer.

Heart still pounding in his ears, Harry thought for a second about the hundreds of situations he'd dreamed of which included him holding the Slytherin as closely as he was now. None of them involved freezing in the snow, holding an unconscious and bleeding Draco.

"He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok," Harry kept repeating to himself. The body in his arms was disturbingly still, without echo of shiver or breath. Harry closed his eyes, cold air burning against his throat as he took in quick breaths.

_He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok…_

A clattering of footsteps, echoes of yells across the grounds. Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore were all upon him in a moment. A magical stretcher was summoned, and Draco's still form was pried from his arms. Dumbledore's bright eyes were staring earnestly into Harry's, as a warming spell allowed him to snap of his reverie.

"Harry, what happened?" McGonagall's concerned voice sounded in his ears. He pried his eyes away from Madame Pomfrey and the stretcher baring Draco away across the snowy drifts to look at his Head of House.

"I dunno," he managed to stammer, feeling Dumbledore's strong hand on his shoulder. "I was going to visit Hagrid, and I saw some blood in the snow, and there was Malfoy. I dunno what happened to him. He came out of the forest. I just found him, and sent my patronus. I didn't know what to do." He was quickly losing his train of thought.

"Harry, it's all right," Dumbledore's low voice was calm. "You did the right thing. Mr. Malfoy is in good hands. I believe now would be a lovely time for a cup of tea in my office. Will you join us, Minerva?"

The Transfiguration professor hesitated, before politely declining. The trio headed back toward the castle doors together. As the initial warming spell began to fade, Harry wrapped his arms around his chest, shaking with the damp that had seeped into his clothes. Walking up the stone steps of the castle's entry way, Harry's feet were numb, imagining the still unconscious Draco being rushed to the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore's hand was gripping his elbow so Harry didn't have to think about which direction he was walking. He willingly followed the headmaster to his office, allowing himself to be pushed into a chair.

Only when a large steaming cup of tea was in front of the raven-haired lad did Dumbledore move to question him again.

"Harry," he prodded gently. The boy's eyes focused on Dumbledore's face, and he shook his head, focusing on the room around him. "You're sure you don't know what happened to Mr. Malfoy? There was not, perhaps, a friendly duel that went awry?"

"What?" Harry questioned after swallowing a mouthful of tea. "No." He shook his head resolutely. "No, Professor, we weren't fighting. I didn't hurt him. Like I said, I was on my way to Hagrid's and found him in the snow. His footsteps led out of the forest." Harry cupped the teacup in his hands, holding it close to his chest. "I didn't hurt him," he repeated, almost to himself. "I would never hurt him."

"As you know, Harry," the headmaster went on, folding his long fingers together atop his desk, "you yourself were the one bringing suspicions to my attention about young Draco earlier this year. You seemed to believe, quite strongly I might add, that he was a Death Eater and should be closely monitored. Do you believe this incident has anything to do with his supposed interaction with this certain gang of dark wizards and witches?"

Harry had not thought that far. His mind was frozen on the image of Draco's limp for in his arms. "I dunno, Professor." He was shocked to feel hot tears burning at the corners of his eyes. With voice tight, he continued. "I really know nothing. But please, Professor, can I go now?"

"Of course, Harry. I believe Snape is expecting you in Defense against the Dark Arts in twenty minutes."

Harry nodded, not making eye contact. He set his half empty teacup back on Dumbledore's desk, and rose to leave.

"And Harry?" The boy turned back. "If for any reason you learn any more about Mr. Malfoy, please do not hesitate to tell me. My door is always open to you."

"I will, Professor. Thank you." Harry descended the turning staircase in a haze. He stood in the hallway outside Dumbledore's office for a moment, staring at the floor, listening to the buzz of conversation filling the halls as students wandered about, preparing to go to lessons. He shivered when a draft blew through the stone hallway, and realized his clothes were still wet. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time that he was also stained with Draco's blood. With this concrete problem in mind, he set out toward the Gryffindor tower to change into something clean and dry.

His fingers unconsciously worked the edge of his red and gold scarf as he took a shortcut back to his dormitory. His eyes were on the stairs before him, but his mind was three floors up, in the Hospital Wing. What could be happening? Was Draco alright? Harry habitually jumped the trick stair and pushed through the tapestry at the top of the stairs.

Dodging glances and gasps from other students, Harry made his way toward the Fat Lady; murmuring the password, he sped through the common room, heading up the tower steps to the sixth years' dormitory room.

Bursting through the door, pulling the scarf from his neck, Harry was stuck fast by the sight before him: Ron and Lavender were in the middle of an intense batch of snogging in the midst of Ron's mussed bed clothes.

Tossing the scarf onto his own made bed, Harry cleared his voice loudly. With a smack, the couple disconnected from each others' faces and looked over at Harry. Lavender gasped, while Ron said in surprise, "What happened to you?"

"Get out," Harry said, voice low. Lavender immediately jumped off the bed and left, edging past Harry as she did so. Ron stood, coming a few steps closer to his best friend and roommate.

"Is this your blood?" he said, wrinkling his nose as he got a closer look at Harry.

"Ron, I don't want to talk about it," he said, pulling the stained sweater over his head.

"Ok, mate." He left the room, following his girlfriend, shutting the door gently behind him.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, hands balled into fists, nails cutting into his palms. Two warm tears worked their way down his cheeks as he stared out the window onto the blindingly white grounds. What was he supposed to say? _Well, you see Ron, I found Malfoy out in the snow bleeding to death and I think I might be in love with him. It was just a tad traumatic. Ok?_ He drew a deep breath through his nose, and wiped his face, steeling himself.

He stripped off the rest of his dirty clothing, changing into school robes. He began absent-mindedly packing his bag for Defense against the Dark Arts, scheduled to commence in about eight minutes according to his watch. But he paused: Snape was probably the last person on earth he wanted to see at the moment. So he wouldn't go. Was that such a hard decision to make. He shoved his bag onto the floor, and sat slumped on his bed.

A hesitant tap came at the door. Hermione's voice came through the wood: "Harry?"

Harry sat still for half a moment, before standing a pulling open the door. "What?" he said darkly.

Hermione cowered at the anger in his voice. "Er… Ron just said, I don't know really he was mumbling. But something about you being covered with blood. He was with Lavender, and nothing he says is ever intelligible these days." Her voice was rushed and all of this was said in one breath while looking at the floor. She finally looked up at his face, "Are you ok, Harry? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine," he said curtly, and pushed past her, sweeping down the staircase. He paused outside the portrait hole, thinking of where he wanted to go. The Room of Requirement flitted across his mind, but instead he let his feet lead him through the familiar hallways toward the Hospital Wing.

His hands were shaking as he pushed open the solid door leading into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey looked up from her station, and smiled gently when she saw it was Harry.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," she said, walking up to him, her long robes brushing the floor. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks." His heart caught in his throat a little as he stammered out, "Actually, I was wondering if… if I could… if I could see Malfoy?"

Poppy glanced at the bed at the end of the hall, partially blocked from view by long curtains. "I suppose there's no harm in that. He's resting comfortably. He's probably a titch woozy from the potion I gave him for the pain, but you can see him. Try not to exhaust him, though, alright Harry?"

"Of course," Harry said, nodding in relief that the blond was all right. He strode to the end of the row of beds, disappearing behind the curtain.

He sank into the chair already at the side of Draco's bed. The Slytherin was curled on his side, blankets resting over his legs, hips, waist. He was clad in the traditional Hospital Wing pajamas. His blond hair was clean, no longer matted in blood, and brushed back from his face; his eyes were closed, his skin still pale, but no longer the grey it has acquired out in the snow. The first few buttons of his pajama top were open, and beneath, his chest was coated almost entirely in bandages, the same white as his skin.

Harry just sat, watching him sleep, for a long couple of minutes. Harry's hands were folded and pressed against his mouth, elbows propped on his knees, eyesight going bleary with tears that kept forming and fading.

Eventually, Harry built up the courage to touch Draco's hand. His flesh was graciously warm. The injured boy stirred at the touch, his eyes flitting open to find his sworn enemy sitting a foot away, touching his hand.

Draco's fingers twitched under Harry's. "Potter?" Draco questioned.

"Hi," Harry said, emotion swelling within him. "How do you feel?"

"Weak," Draco answered honestly. Harry was relieved to see him with his façade dropped. The blond was even more beautiful without the coldness of disdain held in his eyes, without that ever present smirk plastered across his face. Harry wanted nothing more than to lean down and press his lips again Draco's…

"Potter, what are you doing here?" Draco's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. The latter's cheeks suddenly blazed red as he realized what he had been so close to almost doing, glowing with shame when he imagined how Draco would react to such an action.

"I…I…" Harry struggled to find an answer. _I love you and had to know you were alright or else I was going to die; my heart felt like it was exploding every moment I thought of you in pain._

"Well?" Draco asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I… was the one who found you. In the snow. I wanted to see how you were."

Draco's lips parted in surprise. "_You_ found me?"

Harry nodded in ascent.

"What were you doing outside?"

"Going to visit Hagrid."

"How did you… what made you…" Draco took a breath, some of the coldness creeping back into his eyes, and asked, "Why didn't you just leave me to die?"

Harry was taken aback by this question. He physically recoiled, taking his hand back from where it lay on Draco's, feeling sick. "You think I would do something like that?"

"You hate me," Draco stated, no question in his tone.

_No, I don't! I love you, you imbecile!_ "Yeah, but I still wouldn't leave you to bleed or freeze to death. You deserve more dignity than that."

"I deserve nothing," he said suddenly, and Harry was shocked to see his perfect blue eyes flooding with tears.

Harry tried to soothe him, and the slighter boy's tears rushed down his cheeks. "Shh, Draco, it's ok," he kept repeating, taking a firm hold of his hand. He knelt by the side of the blond's bed in order to be closer to him. In a strike of boldness, Harry reached forward and stroked Draco's cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear, drying his tears. There was a soaring feeling in the pit of his stomach and the tips of his fingers dwelt on the perfect softness of Draco's cheek.

Draco took one deep shuddering breath in, and shook off Harry's hand. He wiped his tears, sniffing hard, blowing his breath out in a huff. He tried to shift on the bed into a different position, but winced, drawing in a sharp gasp through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes closed. He froze where he was, breathing hard, one arm wrapped across his stomach.

Harry covered his mouth, watching Draco in pain. He scooted back into his chair, and they sat in silence for a moment, the only noise Draco's labored breathing, until he had calmed. Then Harry tentatively asked, "Draco, what happened to you?"

Draco looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. "What is it to you, Potter?"

"Harry, please."

"Fine. What is it to you, _Harry_?"

Harry closed his eyes as the blond muttered his name; he suppressed a moan growing in his throat. "I just… hate seeing you hurt," he finally said, cheeks blazing red as soon the words were out of his mouth.

Draco's eyes narrowed, "Hate? I'd have thought you'd love it."

Harry chewed his bottom lip, and shook his head.

"Harry, I thought that…" Draco tried to scoot closer to where Harry was sitting, but he cried out in pain, falling onto his back. He screamed as his body weight pressed his back into the mattress. Red suddenly exploded through the bandages on his chest. He gripped the edge of the bed, arching his back.

Harry jumped up, ripping back the curtain. "Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled, before turning back to see Draco collapse, shaking violently. Poppy came running, bustling Harry out of her way, holding a potion bottle. She pulled the curtains back around Draco's bed, leaving Harry outside of them. He sank onto an empty bed, tears rolling unnoticed down his cheeks.

"Please be ok. Please be ok. Don't die on me. Don't leave me here all alone. Please…" he whispered to himself, eyes boring into the curtains separating him from the Slytherin. His hands shook as he wiped his tears as Madam Pomfrey came back around the curtain. She was smoothing the front of her robes, looking upset.

"Is he ok?" Harry asked, jumping off the bed.

Poppy ignored Harry, walking hurriedly out of the Hospital Wing. Harry followed her, half jogging. "Is Draco ok?" he asked again. At no answer, he asked, "Where are you going?" desperation creeping into his voice.

She turned to him, not slowing her pace. "I'm going, Mr. Potter, to alert to Headmaster that Mr. Malfoy needs to be transferred to St. Mungo's immediately."

Harry froze where he was, as the witch hurried away from him down the hall. _St. Mungo's… that means this is _bad. He went racing back to the Hospital Wing. He pulled back the curtain hiding Draco from view.

His eyes met a sight eerily similar to that he had found in the snow. Draco was sprawled on the bed, soaked in his own blood. Harry dropped to his knees beside the bed, pulling Draco's hand into his own. The raven haired boy made no effort to conceal the sobs wracking his frame.

"Please, Dray, please. Don't die on me," he whispered into the perfect skin of the back of his hand.

"What…the hell…are you muttering…down there, Potter?" Draco's voice came unexpectedly.

Harry's head popped up, his cheeks traced with tears. He hadn't realized Draco was conscious. The blond's breathing was heavily labored. His hand suddenly gripped Harry's very tightly. Harry scooted closer to Draco's head, still holding onto his hand.

The injured boy's eyes focused on Harry's face, taking in his tears. "Why…are you so upset… Harry?"

A fresh wave of tears overflowed down his cheeks. "It kills me to see you this way," he said, and in a move of reckless boldness he kissed the pale fingers gripped in his hand.

Draco's eyes widened, his lips parting, as Harry kissed his fingers. Draco reached up weakly to wipe the tears off Harry's face.

Harry swallowed, heart jumping into his throat at the touch. He took a breath and asked, "Draco, what happened to you?" The blond closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "What happened to you in the woods?"

"I-" He was cut off as Madam Pomfrey came bustling into sight, accompanied by Dumbledore and Professor Snape. A stretcher was pulled from thin air, and Draco was magicked onto it. He was rushed out of Harry's sight before he could say another word, accompanied by Snape and the Headmaster. Left alone with Poppy, Harry leaned his head against the recently vacated mattress, still kneeling on the floor.

"Please tell me he'll be ok," he begged Madam Pomfrey, not looking up.

"I can't promise you that, Mr. Potter," she said gently, and left him alone.

Harry stared at Draco's empty, blood stained mattress with tears shaking in his eyes. His heart felt like it was expanding, and he swallowed painfully, trying to breathe. _What would happen if he died?_ Harry squeezed his eyes closed, trying to push that thought as far back into the recesses of his mind as possible.

"He's not going to die," he said aloud, as though trying to convince himself. He rose shakily to his feet, looked down at the bed once more, before leaving the Hospital Wing.


	2. We're nothing more than sad hearts

Harry took to pestering Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Poppy, anyone who would listen for the next few days, trying to get any information out of them on the wellbeing of Draco. But no one had any answers. The week crawled by, the slow passage of time eating away at Harry. He found himself on the verge of tears far more often than he was comfortable with, his mind filled with the worst fantasies imaginable. It'd been a mystery why the blond had suddenly disappeared from campus; horrendous rumors were flying through the hallways to explain his absence, most of which Harry had been ignoring.

Last classes before holiday were finally finished, and most of the castle was in preparation for heading home. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were leaving for the Burrow the next morning.

Harry was in his dormitory, halfheartedly packing his trunk, not paying attention to what items he was placing inside. His spell of daydreaming was broken when a tap came at the door. He turned his head to see Hermione standing in his doorway.

"Hey, Mione," he said, voice low.

Hermione came into the room, settling on Ron's bed, facing Harry. "Talk to me, Harry," she gently demanded.

"'Bout what?"

"About whatever it is that is bothering you so much. You've been in a horrid mood ever since Malfoy left school last week. I want to know why."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned ignorance, folding his cloak and dropping it into his trunk.

Hermione gave him a knowing look. "You know why Malfoy left, don't you?" she asked.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes beneath their glasses. "He's at St. Mungo's," he said softly.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, "Why?"

Harry rose one shoulder in a shrug. "He got injured. I don't know how or why or what happened or how he's doing or anything, so don't ask." He pulled his feet up on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest.

"How do you know this when no one else does, Harry?"

Harry felt tears building in his eyes as he slowly relived the day he found Draco in his mind. "I was the one who found him," he told Hermione, his voice breaking.

Hermione was by his side in a second, wrapping her arms around him. He allowed himself to sob quietly for a few minutes before pulling back, trying to pull himself together.

"How long have you cared for him, Harry?" she asked, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders.

Harry sniffed, running one hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more than normal. "I dunno," he answered honestly. "A few months."

"Why didn't you tell me and Ron?"

Harry snorted, wiping his eyes. "Seriously? You would be all, 'Harry, are you sure?' and Ron would scream, 'He's fucking Malfoy, you can't love him!' I just… didn't want to deal with that. It's not like anything's ever going to happen now…" Tears were threatening again, but Harry forced them back.

"How serious is it?" Hermione asked, looking at him earnestly.

Harry closed his eyes. "He's in St. Mungo's. It's been five days. That's how serious."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"I'm just…" Harry started, swallowing hard. "I'm just scared that he's dying there… all by himself. Or that he's dead. Or… so many things."

Hermione laid one hand on his shoulder, squeezing it through the fabric of his sweater. "He's not dead, Harry. We would have heard. And he's not alone. He's getting the best care possible at St. Mungo's. And he's a stubborn little ass; he's not just going to roll over and die."

Harry laughed, wiping away a few more tears that had formed. "Thanks, Mione."

Her eyes focused on him sharply. "That day when Ron said you were coated in blood," she said, working things out in her mind as she spoke, "that was the day you found Malfoy?"

Harry nodded weakly, memories from that day screaming through his mind once again.

"Where did you find him?" she asked gently.

Harry paused for a moment, collecting himself. "In the snow. He'd come out of the Forbidden Forest."

"Out of the Forest? Really?" Hermione's mind started whirling, and she spoke more to herself than to Harry: "I wonder what he was doing in there. Anything could have happened to him, but if he's still in St. Mungo's it was probably something magical that got him. He didn't tell you why he was in the forest? Maybe this has something to do with why he's been sneaking around this term."

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to get her to focus.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, looking at him. "Look, Harry, I'm sure he'll be fine."

Harry just looked at her blankly. "Fine. Yeah. Sure."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, watching her best friend struggle to keep his emotions tapped. "Harry, I think you should talk to Ron about this."

"Why?"

"He cares about you. I'm sure he would like to know what's been bothering you lately and maybe he'll have something comforting to say."

Harry coughed out a laugh: "Ron? Saying something comforting? Good one, Mione."

Hermione laughed a little, too. "I guess you're probably right. But I'm sure he's worried about you. You shouldn't keep things like this from him."

Harry shook his head, looking across the room at Ron's bed. "It's a bit troublesome trying to talk to him lately. He's a tad… preoccupied with certain events in his life."

Hermione's gaze hardened. "Oh, I know."

Harry chewed his fingernails for a moment, before asking, "You gonna be ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered shortly.

"You sure? Even with staying at the Burrow?"

She sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "It'll be fine," she said, sounding a smidge unconvinced. She glanced about her for a moment, taking in the state of his room. "Want some help packing?"

Harry smiled for the first time since he'd found Draco in the snow, "Sure. That'd be great."

* * *

A few lazy, holiday cookie filled days at the Burrow later, Hermione burst into Ron's room where Harry was sitting by himself. He had taken to staring out Ron's window at the snow-coated garden and fields beyond, fading in and out of reality. He'd sent an owl to Dumbledore when they first arrived at the Burrow, almost begging the Headmaster to send him any news of Draco. When no answer reached him, he sunk into a depression.

The door flung wide and hit the wall opposite, causing Harry to jump and look behind him. Hermione was rushing up to him. She grabbed his elbow and proceeded to drag him out of Ron's room and down the stairs.

"Ouch! Mione, what's going on?" he said, trying not to trip on the staircase.

"I'm so tired of seeing you like this. We're going to do something to get you out of this mood."

Harry stopped on the stairs, and shook of her grip. "Look, Hermione, I really appreciate your effort. But I doubt caroling or baking or a snowball fight or anything you have in mind will really cheer me up." Harry knew he was being antisocial, but being around others all of whom were in a cheery holiday spirit made him feel sick. He made to walk back up the stairs.

But Hermione grabbed him around the arm again, and continued dragging him down the stairs. Harry gave an exasperated sigh and allowed her to lead him into the living room, where Arthur Weasley sat by himself, reading the Prophet.

"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione said, not releasing her hold on Harry's elbow.

"Yes, Hermione?" Arthur answered, laying down his newspaper.

Hermione took a breath and quickly said, "Harry and I were wondering if we might possibly be able to go visit a friend at St. Mungo's today?"

"You have a friend in St. Mungo's? Oh, how awful," Arthur said, almost absently. "Are they alright?"

Harry was just staring at Hermione, open mouthed, as she said, "Well, we don't know and we'd really like to find out. So, if you aren't too busy, would you be willing to accompany us there? I mean, I don't think we should be traveling alone, especially Harry, when there's been all this danger lately."

"Yes, that's wise," Arthur said, while rubbing his forehead. "I don't see why that would be a problem. But you want to go today?"

"Anytime you're free would be fine," Hermione said, giving him a gracious smile.

"How about tomorrow morning? I need to run an errand in London for the Ministry, and I could drop you kids off on the way and pick you up once I'm finished."

"Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Weasley! You don't know what this means."

"You're quite welcome, Hermione. We'll leave here at nine tomorrow morning." Arthur picked up his paper again, in effect closing the conversation.

Hermione's grip tightened on Harry's elbow as they exited into the kitchen next door. Harry lifted Hermione up in a huge hug, whispering into her hair, "You're absolutely amazing, Mione! What would I do without you?"

She wrapped her arms tightly around his back. He swung her in a circle, and she laughed, her feet off the ground. Ron chose this moment to enter the kitchen. Catching his two best friends in a deep embrace, his eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell's going on?" he asked without tact, biting into a cookie from a tray on the counter.

"Nothing that is of any concern to you, Ronald," Hermione said, slipping out of Harry's arms. She walked out of the kitchen, refusing to look at the redhead.

Ron watched her go, eyes narrowed. "What're you two on about?" he asked Harry, shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"Nothing," Harry answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ron cocked his head to the side, opening his mouth, but Harry slipped past him, escaping up the stairs, not wanting to deal with any questioning. He resumed his spot at the window in Ron's room, quickened breath fogging on the glass.

* * *

Later that evening, as he lay in bed staring up at the blurry ceiling above himself, Harry found himself unable to sleep. His heart was racing; anxiety was creeping into his chest. He found himself inexpressibly excited to be going to St. Mungo's the next day, so uncontrollably thrilled to see Draco, to have him close, to be in his presence.

But there was fear, and lots of it, accompanying his excitement. He was so scared that Draco wasn't healing, that he was getting worse. Anything could be happening to him…

Harry tried to calm his breathing, listening to the echo of snores which had played throughout his room for the past six years. _It'll be fine. Mione's right: if he had died, we would have heard._

Harry curled on his side, pulling his knees up toward his chest, trying to relax.


	3. You're his favorite worst nightmare

Feet bare and cold against the stone of Hogwart's hallways, Harry walked along, not looking in front of him; instead his eyes were glued to the Marauder's Map in his hands, following the movements of a dot labeled _Draco Malfoy_.

He didn't recognize these hallways; the walls were bowing in at the top, giving each hall the appearance of more of a tunnel. No matter how fast Harry walked, Draco stayed the same distance in front of him on the map. _Why is he out wandering so late?_ he thought to himself. _Is he alright? Does he need someone?_

Harry saw ahead on the map that they were reaching a dead end. He broke into a jog, eyes finally scanning the dark expanses before him instead of the wrinkled parchment. Rounding a corner, he saw a tall, thin, cloak-coated figure before himself, standing at the end of the hallway, staring at the plain stone wall.

"Dra-Draco?" Harry stammered out, coming to a halt ten feet from where the boy stood.

The blond turned, saw Harry standing there, and smiled. Pushing back the hood of his cloak, he revealed his beautiful almost white hair, which seemed to glow in the dark hallway.

Draco took one step toward Harry, and said, "I hoped it was you who was following me."

Harry felt the map flutter from his fingers onto the floor. He took a step forward, too. "You did?"

Draco nodded, giving him a smooth smile. Something dark leaked from the corner of his mouth, but he quickly wiped it away with no look of concern.

"Why were you hoping it was me?" Harry asked timidly, wishing for the impossible.

"So I could do this," Draco replied, and closed the gap between their bodies. The Slytherin slipped his hands around the back of Harry's neck and pressed his perfect lips against Harry's mouth.

Heart pounding, Harry relished the kiss, sliding his arms around Draco's thin waist. He parted his lips, and was met with a barrage of salty, metallic blood.

Pulling back sharply, Harry saw Draco's white chin laced in red that was leaking from his mouth.

"Draco," Harry whispered, as he felt the body in his arms lurch, stumble, collapse.

"Dray, no!" Harry yelled this time, tightening his arms, trying to hold the blond upright. But the body melted through his embrace, crumpling into nothing more than a puddle of blood on the stone floor.

"No!" Harry screamed, bolting upright in his bed. His heart was beating painfully fast and he couldn't draw breath for a moment. Ron's room was dimly lit from weak morning sun creeping through the window.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" came an angry mutter from the direction of Ron's bed. Harry pulled his knees up, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to deter the tears from escaping down his cheeks.

Ron sat up, looking at Harry. "What's wrong? Is it your scar? Is You-Know-Who doing something?" he asked hurriedly, voice cracking, when he saw Harry with his hands pressed against his forehead.

Harry took in a deep breath through his mouth. "It's not my scar. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

"What were you screaming about?" Ron asked, slumping back against his pillow.

"I just had a dream. Sorry I woke you." Dragging the back of his hand across his eyes, clearing them of any vestige of tears, Harry reached for his glasses. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was a quarter past eight; he pushed his body out of bed, getting dressed to the familiar chorus of Ron's snores.


	4. Love is watching someone die

* * *

Harry finished tying his sneakers and, stifling a yawn, walked out of Ron's room, closing the door soundlessly behind himself. He walked slowly down the flights of stairs, rubbing the back of his head, feeling slight twinges of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. His mind was still racing a bit from the dream he'd just woken from, and he tried not to let his thoughts run too far away without his consent.

_The dream doesn't mean anything_, he tried to convince himself on his way to the kitchen. _All it means is that I was thinking about Draco and worried about how he is. It doesn't mean he's hurting or dying. It doesn't._

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the lovely smell of frying bacon met his senses, and he walked into the kitchen to find toast, eggs, pumpkin juice, and the before mentioned bacon waiting for him. Molly Weasley was at the stove, overseeing the frying pan with her wand, while Arthur and Hermione were already tucking in at the table.

Harry sat down and started eating habitually, not entirely tasting the food in his mouth. Hermione tilted her head, looking at him from across the table.

"Harry?" she asked. His eyes focused and found hers. "How are you feeling this morning?"

He nodded, "I'm fine."

"Good. Are you ready for this?"

He nodded again, resolutely.

Molly was at Harry's side, loading his plate again. "Who is it that you two are going to visit?" she asked.

Harry quickly took a bite of toast to avoid the question, while Hermione answered, "A friend from our year. We've had classes with him for ages."

"And why isn't Ron going with you?" Molly asked.

Harry swallowed, looking to Hermione to answer again. "Oh, Ron doesn't know him," she lied quickly and easily. "At least, not as well as we do. So, he didn't want to come."

Molly seemed to accept this; she nodded and moved away. Hermione gave Harry a small smile from the other side of the table. Arthur set down his fork, looked across at the two teenagers and asked, "Are we about ready to leave?"

"I'm ready," Hermione answered. "Harry, how about you?"

Harry nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

They Flooed into St. Mungo's. Suddenly Harry's sight was filled with wizards and witches in green robes rushing every which way, and an odd assortment of people seated in the waiting area. Harry was distracted watching a witch with what looked like half a toucan spurting from her shoulder, he almost missed Arthur's parting words:

"Well, I'll be off then. I'll be back as soon as I can to escort you back home. Should be around an hour. Enjoy your visit." And he left.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice crashed through Harry's reverie. He realized she had said his name three times before he heard her. He looked at her, lips parted. "Why don't you sit down here," Hermione said, leading him gently to a chair and pressing him into it, "and I'll go find out where Draco's room is."

She left to stand in a line across the room. Blearily, he watched her go, then busied himself looking around at the different afflictions surrounding him. But he wasn't really seeing them. The food he'd eaten for breakfast sat like a brick in the pit of his stomach, as he realized that all hospitals (even magical ones) smell the same. He twisted his hands in his lap, closing his eyes.

"Harry!" Hermione was calling him again. He heard her the first time. Opening his eyes, he saw her waving him over to a lift. "Come on," she said as he joined her. "He's on the third floor."

His breathing quickened as the lift ascended. He allowed Hermione to take his hand and lead him down the hallway. "Three-sixty-five, three-sixty-five," she was saying under her breath as she looked at room numbers. And then, room three-hundred and sixty-five was before them. Hermione gently nudged Harry into the open doorway.

Harry closed his eyes, swallowed, and looked inside the room. And there was Draco, lying in his bed, looking very much alive and very much awake. He was partially obstructed by someone sitting on the edge of the bed though; someone Harry recognized as Blaise Zabini.

Unnoticed, Harry leaned against the doorframe and listened to their conversation.

"D'you think you'll be home for Christmas?" Blaise was asking.

Draco shook his head against the pillow. "I might be out by end of holidays, though," Draco answered. Harry felt his heart quicken at the sound of his voice.

"And back to school? What joy," Blaise said, sounding less than enthused.

"Honestly. But better there than at the Manor with Mother breathing down my neck every time I move."

Draco moaned, and tried to shift into a different position. He gave up after a moment, and sat up a bit, bracing himself on his elbow so none of his torso was in contact with the mattress beneath him.

"Are you ok?" Blaise asked, resting one hand on Draco's arm. But Draco had closed his eyes and didn't answer. "The pain's back?" Blaise asked, and this time Draco nodded his head in ascent.

Blaise sighed, watching the blond hurting. "Draco, I hate to leave you like this, but I really have to be off. I promised I'd meet my mum for some holiday shopping in town."

"Course," Draco had opened his eyes. "Do me a favor and call the healer on your way out."

"I will. I'll come back and see you after Christmas."

Draco gave him a smile that did not extend to his eyes.

"Goodbye, Dray." Blaise then did something that made Harry feel ill: he leaned forward and kissed Draco firmly on the cheek. Draco received it, and Blaise rose to leave. It was then that he saw Harry standing in the doorway.

"Harry sodding Potter?" he said with bite. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Draco had sat up fully in bed, one hand pressed lightly against his own chest. "Blaise, the healer, please," he said, eyes locked on Harry.

Blaise glanced back at Draco, before pushing past Harry into the hallway. Harry ventured into Draco's room, standing a few feet from his bed. Draco was cross-legged, his blankets shoved down to the edge of the bed. He was facing Harry.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice hard and cold.

"I came to visit you," Harry said; his own voice sounded small.

"How did you even know I was here?"

Harry was confused for a moment. "I…I was there when they took you from the Hospital Wing."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "When was I in the Hospital Wing?"

"Before you were transferred here. Don't you remember?"

Draco shook his head. "I just remember waking up here."

Harry sank into the chair set alongside Draco's bed. "You… you don't remember anything?"

Draco shook his head again. He shifted, sitting up straighter, his hands resting lightly on his stomach. "I don't understand why you're here," he said, eyes boring into Harry's.

Terrifyingly, tears flooded Harry's eyes. He blinked to try and keep them back. "I found you in the snow, Draco. I got you to the Hospital Wing. I was with you when you left for here."

"OK. But why are you here?"

"I.." Harry suddenly realized how ridiculous this must seem to Draco: having Harry Potter visit him on winter holiday in St. Mungo's when no one was supposed to know where he was. Why should Harry have come out of his way to check on him? Harry himself began to question his motives.

_Just be honest with him,_ part of his mind advised.

_No! Are you crazy?! He'd probably die laughing._

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," Harry finally said.

"Why do you care?"

Harry forced a smug smile onto his face. "I can't hate you if you're dead."

Draco sneered at him. "How very noble of you." He shifted again, this time squeezing his eyes closed. "Where's the bloody healer?" he hissed.

As though summoned by Draco's words, a wizard in green robes came through the door. He had a potion bottle in one hand, and a bowl filled with another potion in the other; rags and bandages were draped over his arm.

"Hello," the wizard said when he saw Harry. As Harry turned to face him, holding out his hand, the healer took in a breath. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry nodded. "That would be correct."

"I'm Liam," the healer introduced himself, shaking Harry's hand warmly. "I didn't know you were a friend of Draco's."

"If you two are finished chatting," Draco's voice came darkly from his bed, "I'm in pain here."

"Alright, alright," Liam said, setting down the items he was carrying on the table beside Draco's bed. Draco was unbuttoning his pajama top; he shed it, revealing his torso completely surrounded in bandages.

"Er… I'll just be off then," Harry said, prying his eyes off Draco's chest.

"Actually, can you stay?" Liam asked. Harry looked at him quizzically. "What's about to happen isn't the most pleasant ordeal for Draco. It's best when there's something to distract him."

"Um, ok. I can stay," Harry said.

Liam pulled the chair closer to Draco, and pointed for Harry to sit down. Draco was staring at the floor, his eyes glazed, hands working and twisting the sheets in front of him. Harry tilted his head, trying to look Draco in the eyes, but the blond was a million miles away in his hurting.

Liam started unraveling the bandages around Draco's chest and back. Once his skin was bare, tears sprung to Harry's eyes as he saw angry red welts coating the boy's chest. Liam was dipping a rag into the bowl of potion. Gripping Draco's shoulder, the healer pressed the rag against one of the welts on his chest. Draco gasped, his hands gripping the sheet tightly, knuckles turning white.

"Talk to him," Liam instructed, as Harry looked helplessly on while the healer continued to treat his many wounds.

"Draco," Harry said, grasping at straws. "Tell me… tell me the ingredients in veritaserum."

"What-what?" the blond stammered, looking up at Harry with wet eyes.

"That's good," Liam said, dipping the rag again. "Make him think."

"Tell me," Harry gently demanded, reaching up to tip Draco's chin up from where it was pointed toward the floor again.

Draco took in one shuddering breath, and rattled off the list of ingredients flawlessly.

"Impressive," Harry said. "You really are good at Potions. It's not just because Snape likes you."

Draco made some inaudible noise, sounding a bit like "Potter" as Liam continued treating his chest.

"Keep going," the healer instructed. "He's about to get worse."

"Ok, Draco, now tell me the fastest way to get from the Great Hall to the Astronomy Tower.

With eyes closed, face tilted up toward the ceiling, and a few tears finding their way down his cheeks, Draco described the various staircases and shortcuts taken in the most efficient route through the castle.

"Halfway there," Liam said, almost to himself, as he finished treating Draco's chest. The healer moved around the bed to get to work on his back. At the first touch of the rag, Draco cried out, making Harry's ears ring, his heart pound. Harry took the blond's writhing hands in his own; Draco squeezed his fingers together until he felt they were breaking. Sobs wracked Draco's thin frame as Liam continued the work on his back. Draco's body began to pitch forward; Harry gently rested his forehead against Draco's, holding him upright.

"Tell me," Harry said, as Draco's hot breath spilled out over his face, "the correct way to perform a Wronski Feint."

The only response Harry was met with was further pressure on his already aching hands.

"Dray?" Harry said softly, but the blond was beyond being able to speak. Harry closed his eyes, his own tears mirroring Draco's. "What happened to you?" he whispered.

"A cursed whip," Liam said from behind Draco's back.

"What?" Harry said. He hadn't been expecting an answer.

"A cursed whip, or something similar."

Harry moved his head from where it supported Draco's to look at the healer. Draco moaned and dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

"Oh, we've seen it before," Liam said. "Beatings with cursed weapons are a huge part of magical torture. Incredibly painful in the moment, and long and painful in the healing process."

"But… he _is_ healing?"

Liam nodded, eyes on his work. "He's doing well. He'll always carry these scars, but after a few more weeks, most of his pain should be gone."

Harry expelled the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He looked down at the thin, marred body leaned against his own. Harry rested his head against Draco's, feeling the softness of blond hair against his cheek.

"Who would do this to you?" he whispered against Draco's hair.

Liam just shook his head, finishing his work in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, several whimpers and moans from Draco, and Harry losing the feeling in his hands, Liam laid aside the bowl of potion. He swiftly began wrapping Draco's chest in fresh bandages, covering the welts. Draco's breath was fast and short: Harry could feel it against his neck.

Once he'd finished bandaging, Liam moved around to the other side of the bed. He poured a goblet full of potion from the bottle he'd brought in, and came to Harry's side.

"Here we go, Draco," the healer said, lifting Draco's head from Harry's shoulder. He held the cup to Draco's lips, helping him drink the potion. About half a minute after he had drained the goblet, Draco's death grip on Harry's hands relaxed. Draco took a great breath in, expelling it in a noisy sigh. His body started to slump further against Harry's, but the healer took the former's shoulder, guiding him down until he was lying on his side.

"Thank you for being here," Liam said, gathering the supplies into his arms.

Harry's eyes were on Draco, watching his slightly shaking frame, his eyes open but focused on nothing. "I don't think I did much," Harry said softly, resting one hand on Draco's warm arm.

"Oh, you most certainly did. He's usually screaming by the end of it." Liam nodded, also looking down at his patient. "You kept him calm, Harry."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, tears finding their way into his eyes again.

"Feel free to stay with him as long as you like," Liam said on his way out the door.


	5. You sit there in your heartbreak

Harry scooted his chair closer to the head of Draco's bed. The blond was still shaking, his breath still ragged; tears had left trails on his cheeks. Harry took one of his warm hands and cupped it between his own: Draco did not pull away.

"When that's happening, I want to die," Draco said so softly that Harry almost missed the words.

"Shh," Harry soothed. "You're so strong, Dray. You'll be better soon."

Draco's eyes fell closed for a minute, before he opened them, focusing on Harry's face. "Why did you stay?"

Harry looked down at him sadly, wanting to spill his heart. "You would have done the same for me," he said simply.

Draco closed his eyes again. "You don't know that."

Harry watched him resting, before asking, "Draco, what happened to you?"

Draco shook his head, eyes still closed. "You heard Liam."

"I did. But that doesn't explain what happened to you. Who beat you? Why were you in the forest? What… just, what happened to you?"

Draco's fingers tightened around Harry's, but he said, "I can't tell you."

"Yes, you can. You can trust me, Draco. I just want to help you. I want you to never be hurt like this again. Please, Dray, let me help you."

"You can't," he said, tears shining in his eyes. "No one can help me. You're right to hate me. If you knew what I was doing…"

"What are you doing?" At Draco's silence, Harry continued, "Come on, I know you want to tell me. You can't just keep all of this inside, Draco. Trust me."

"Harry," Harry's heart leapt as Draco said his name, "I can't. This is something I have to bear on my own." Harry heard the resoluteness in his voice, and decided to stop prying.

"Alright. But… if you change your mind-"

"You're there for me?" Draco finished for him.

"Yeah. I'll always be right here."

"Thanks, Harry."

Draco nestled deeper into his pillow, closing his eyes, his lips parting as he breathed. Harry released his hand, and pulled the blankets up over Draco's body, smoothing them over his chest. Harry's mind was screaming at him to do something, anything. He wanted to lean down a kiss the hurt boy, to take him up in his arms and cradle him until his pain left for good. Harry wanted to curl up in the hospital bed beside him and stay there until Draco was discharged. He only wanted to be by his side forever…

Harry expelled a shaky sigh, and rose to his feet. "Bye, Dray," he whispered, before leaving his side. He stopped in the doorway to cast one last look at the sleeping boy. He was beautifully calm and peaceful. Harry wished he could be so relaxed always; his heart ached as he thought of the pain Draco was certain to be in soon.

He stepped into the hallway, out of sight of the blond who held his heart. Hermione was seated on the ground, back against the wall of the hallway just outside Draco's room. "Hey," she said when she saw Harry.

"Hey," he returned, sniffing. He sank down the wall to sit next to her.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked.

"You weren't listening?"

Hermione shook her head. Harry was suddenly grateful for what an amazing friend she was.

"He's healing, but still in a lot of pain."

"Did you find out what happened to him?"

"A healer told me that he was beaten with a cursed weapon of some sort."

"Oh my word," Hermione said, her hands over her mouth.

Harry just nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Wait, but how did that happen in the Forbidden Forest?" Hermione mused aloud.

Harry was wiping his eyes behind his glasses. "What?" he questioned.

"How was he beaten in the forest?"

"I dunno," Harry said, not really thinking about what she had said; his thoughts were with the sleeping Slytherin lying fifteen feet behind his back.

"It made sense," Hermione began, "that he got injured in the forest; I mean, there are a ton of dangerous animals and magical creatures in there. But what could have beaten him in there? I mean, I guess it could have been a centaur, since they have been a bit testy lately. All their rampaging because of the whole half-breed thing. But still, cursed weapons? That doesn't sound like centaurs. They're too noble for all of that. No, it had to have been a witch or a wizard. But who would have just been in the woods? D'you think it could have been another student? Oh, Harry, what if someone at Hogwarts attacked him?"

"Why would someone do that to Draco?" Harry asked, his head spinning from trying to follow her quick train of thought.

"I'm not sure, but there seem to be lot of people who don't really like Malfoy. It could have been any of the Gryffindors or maybe even a Ravenclaw. All the house madness students get involved with."

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said, trying to slow her down. "While I can understand a few punches or a stray hex, using a cursed weapon to inflict this much pain has to be motivated by more than just a school rivalry. Maybe it was…"

"Maybe it was what, Harry?"

He paused, realizing his answer was a bit out there. "Voldemort," he finally said.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "You think You-Know-Who was hiding out in the Forbidden Forest with the sole purpose of beating Draco Malfoy? Harry, if he could get that close to the school, we would probably all be dead by now."

"I know it was stupid. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid. You just weren't thinking it through all the way."

"Ok, now you're talking to me like I'm three-years-old," Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe a little bit," Hermione laughed. "I'm sorry. It was a valid point. Just unlikely."

"I dunno if thinking about this even matters," Harry said. "If Draco's not going to tell us, we're never going to know what happened to him."

"Maybe he'll come around," Hermione said.

"Maybe…"

"I'm sure you have ways of persuading him," she said, looking at him with a smirk on her lips.

"Mione," he said, voice low just in case Draco was listening. "What exactly are you-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, mouth open when he saw who was coming down the hallway. Hermione turned, and took in a breath.

Narcissa Malfoy was making her way toward the room outside of which the pair sat. She raised her chin slightly when she saw them seated on the ground outside her son's room, but did not pause to share greetings. She swept into Draco's room, leaving Harry and Hermione in silence.

"We should probably go," Hermione said, taking Harry's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Mr. Weasley might be waiting for us."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go." As they walked down the hall, Harry paused and looked back through the open door. Narcissa was seated on the side of Draco's bed, stroking his white-blond hair off his forehead. Draco's eyes were open, and he caught Harry's gaze for a moment, before Harry sucked in his breath and turned away, following Hermione through the hallway toward the lifts.


	6. Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

Upon returning to the Burrow, Hermione and Harry were met with a barrage of questions from Ron.

"Where the bloody hell have you two been all morning?" he asked, storming out of the house, meeting them in the garden.

Harry was breathing into his gloved hands, keeping them warm, while Hermione answered, "Well, if you must know, Ronald, we were visiting Draco Malfoy at St. Mungo's."

Ron stared at her for a minute, before snorting with laughter. "Good one, Mione. You had me going for a second there. No, really, where were you?"

Harry, sensing an argument was developing, pushed past his two best friends and stepped into the house. While stripping off his coat, scarf, and other winter clothes, he heard the conversation still happening outside the door.

"I'm not lying, Ron. We went to see Malfoy."

"Malfoy?! Why? Since when do we give a fuck about him?"

"I know that it's mentally impossible for you to care about anyone but yourself," Hermione's voice was rising, "but if you had been paying even the smallest amount of attention lately, you might have noticed that Harry's been really upset these past few weeks."

"I pay attention!" Ron was quick to defend himself.

"Yeah, to Lavender's face plastered on top of yours; you pay great attention to that."

"Hey! Don't bring Lav into this. Why's Harry been upset?"

"Oh, so _now_ your care?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes, and moved deeper into the house, away from his friends' angry voices. He sank into a chair beside the fire in the Weasley's living room, a whirl of emotions flowing through his body. He sat with hands trapped between his knees, staring into the flames.

Drawing in a deep breath through his mouth, he whispered to himself, "See, he's fine. He's healing. He's going to be well so soon. And he has Blaise. And his mother. And soon everything will go back to being the way it's always been." Tears sprung to his eyes as he said this. He didn't want things the way they always were, a pretense of hate separating him from Draco. No, that's the last thing he wanted.

He pulled his feet up into the chair, curling into a ball, head resting on the arm, thoughts stayed on the third floor of St. Mungo's.

* * *

The next day, Christmas Eve, Harry was holed up in Ron's room again. He was sitting at Ron's desk, blank piece of parchment before him, quill inked and poised for writing. But the words would not come.

He heard a throat being cleared behind him. Turning, Harry saw Ron standing a few feet inside the room.

"How's it going, mate?" Ron asked.

"'Lo, Ron," Harry replied.

"Look, Harry," Ron said, taking a few steps closer, scratching the back of his head. "Hermione talked to me yesterday about… some things… about you and Malfoy."

Harry's cheeks reddened as he realized how uncomfortable Ron seemed with this subject. "Yeah?" he returned. "So, what do you think?"

Ron sat down on his bed and said with a straight face, "Well, first off, I think you have crap taste in guys. I mean, of all the bent blokes at Hogwarts, you pick the one we've sworn to hate forever? C'mon, Harry! Sure, he's hot, but can't you fall for someone we've not spent six years plotting against? Sheesh…"

Harry was laughing before Ron had even finished this small proclamation. The ginger joined in his laughter, shoulders shaking. Harry had actually forgotten how good it felt to laugh. After a few moments of mirth, his cheeks began to ache with the action.

"Seriously, though," Ron said, once they had calmed, "if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you, mate."

"Thanks, Ron. I appreciate that."

Ron nodded. "Now, Fred and George just apparated in. I'd say a snowball fight is in order. What d'you say?"

"Sounds good. I'll be down in a minute. I just have to finish a letter."

"Alright." Ron stood, clapping one hand on Harry's shoulder, before leaving his room.

Harry turned back to the parchment. Taking up his quill, he thought for a moment before scrawling:

_Draco,_

_I hope you're doing well and not in too much pain. I am just writing to wish you a happy Christmas and hoping you are feeling better. Enjoy the rest of your holiday, and I'll see you at school._

_Cheers,_

_Harry_

He looked down at the note with some disappointment. It was not exactly the extravagant admittance of adoration he had originally thought about penning. But still, it was a little something to remind Draco he was being thought of. And that was enough for right now. Harry called Hedwig over and gave her the letter. She gave him an almost reproachful look when he told her who it was for, but he shooed her out the window.

Leaning against the windowsill, Harry stood in the fresh air, allowing freezing temperatures to creep into Ron's room through the open window. He took a deep breath, blowing it out in a cloud of mist. He stared after Hedwig as she flew, imagining a thin, blond, wounded boy receiving his owl and smiling. His thoughts were shattered, though, with a yell from below.

"Oy! Harry!" Fred was standing directly below the window. The redhead quickly levitated a snowball up the side of the house and crashed it into Harry's head. "Stop your daydreaming and get down here!"

Harry laughed, brushing snow out of his eyes. "Coming!" he called, and shut the window.

* * *

The rest of break passed seamlessly. Christmas was lovely, filled with scrumptious foods and familiar company. The Burrow swelled with its many guests, warm fires sputtering in most rooms, amazing smells drifting through the floors from Molly's holiday baking creations. Christmas supper was incredible; Harry and Ron stumbled into the living room afterwards, collapsing in chairs, stomachs full to bursting.

Harry was filled with a lighthearted hope for the days following Christmas. Holiday was a needed break from the bustle of school, a release of worry caused by viewing Voldemort's memories with Dumbledore. And the return to Hogwarts promised a reunion with Draco, which gave Harry more joy than any other thought. Each day that passed secured that Draco was healing more and more. A smile crept across Harry's lips each time he thought of spotting the blond in the stone hallways of the castle.

Finally, the day arrived when Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny shipped off to school once again. After an uneventful journey, Harry was up in his dormitory, unpacking his trunk. He ran across the Marauder's Map. Staring at it in his hand for a moment, he was struck with a momentary flash of his nightmare: Draco dissolving into nothing more than a stain marring the floor. He shook his head, and touched the parchment with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map rapidly spread across the page, and Harry scanned the many hallways of Hogwarts, searching for a particular Slytherin dot. His pulse quickened as he continued his search, not seeing Malfoy anywhere.

After a few more minutes of looking, he was sure Draco Malfoy was nowhere inside the Hogwarts castle. He sighed, muttering, "Mischief managed," at the map.

_It's fine,_ he slowly convinced himself. _He probably just hasn't arrived yet. This doesn't mean anything's wrong._ Harry dropped the map onto his bed, and headed down to the Gryffindor common room to find Ron and Hermione.

It seemed Ron and Lavender, Dean and Ginny were making up for time apart over the holidays. Harry tried to avert his eyes, sinking onto a couch beside Neville.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville greeted him. "Have a nice holiday?"

"Yeah, it was good. How was yours?"

"It was great! Gran got me this fabulous book on Herbology for a present. Want to see it?"

"Er… not right now, Neville. Hey, d'you want to head down to dinner?"

"Oh sure, that'd be great."

They both rose and moved toward the portrait hole. Before stepping out of the room, Harry cleared his throat and said loudly, "Yep, I just can't wait for _dinner_!"

"Dinner?" Ron's voice sounded, a little muffled. After a moment, he was walking at Harry's side, smoothing down his hair; Lavender trailed quickly behind.

The four Gryffindors made their way into the Great Hall and took seats at their house table. Harry sat up as straight as he could, craning his neck to scan the Slytherin table. His eyes searched for the shock of white blond hair which always stood out so starkly in the sea of black. But it wasn't there. He sighed and slumped down, staring morosely at the table.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, mouth already stuffed full with potatoes.

Harry leaned closed to him, and whispered, "Draco's not here."

Ron lifted his eyes and glanced along the far table, just as Harry had done. "Don't worry about it," he told Harry once he'd come to the same conclusion. "He probably hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry said, dishing some food onto the plate in front of him. But a gnawing nervousness had crept into the pit of his stomach, making eating impossible. With eyes trained on the doors of the Great Hall, Harry sat blind and deaf to all that was going on around him, pushing food around his plate. After a while, his friends finished their dinner and left him; he sat slightly isolated at the Gryffindor table still staring at the entrance way.

His eyes fixed upon Hermione as she came through the doors. She saw him immediately, and came to sit beside him. With one look at her best friend's face, she said, "Harry, what's wrong?"

"He's not here," Harry said, voice low and cracking with emotion. "Something's wrong. He's still in St. Mungo's. Why isn't he here, Mione?"

"Shh, Harry, calm down. It's ok. He probably just hasn't gotten in yet. Or maybe he's taking a few days to rest at home before coming back to school. I'm sure he's fine."

Harry looked at her. "Are you saying that to appease me, or do you actually believe it?"

"I believe it," she said without stutter. "Now, here, you have to eat something. Stop worrying about Draco. He'll get here eventually." She slid some pudding onto his plate, but he ignored it.

Hermione sat with him, watching him watch the doors, until they were almost alone in the Hall. "Come on, Harry," she said gently, taking his elbow and pulling him up from the bench. "Let's go back up to the common room."

Harry allowed her to lead him out of the Great Hall and back up to the seventh floor. Once in Gryffindor tower, he raced back up to his room, grabbing the map from where it lay on his bed. He searched it thoroughly again, but to his dismay Draco was still nowhere to be found. Frustration rising, he sent a fist rocketing into one of the posts on his bed. Eyes streaming, he curled up on his bed, map pressed to his chest.

_Where are you?_


	7. I'm so scared to feel so safe

Harry found himself a ball of nerves for the next few days. The first thing he did upon waking and the last thing before sleeping was searching the Marauder's Map for Draco. He took to checking it between classes, to the point that Ron had threatened to take it away from him.

"Harry, please," Hermione was saying to Harry as she and Ron flanked him on the way to Potions on the third day of the term. "You're really starting to worry me. You needn't fret so much about Draco. He's taking the time to heal that he needs. And he'll be back here as soon as he can be. You worrying yourself to death isn't going to help him at all."

"But what if he's gotten worse? What if something happened to him?" Harry had still not fully given up on his idea that Voldemort was the one who had attacked the Slytherin in the woods. What if he, or a Death Eater, had come to St. Mungo's or Malfoy Manor to finish the job?

Ron's hand on his shoulder helped Harry pull back into reality. "Mione's right, mate. You need to relax."

The trio entered Slughorn's classroom, and took their normal place at the same table. If nothing else, Harry's melancholy over Draco had led Hermione and Ron to quickly reconcile their friendship. Ron was suddenly spending much less time with Lavender, and the two friends attempted to keep their bickering to an absolute minimum when around Harry.

Setting his bag on the table, Harry stared blankly around the room. At a table near the front of the room, Blaise sat by himself, arms crossed over his chest. Before his mind had time to process what he was doing, Harry was beside the Slytherin, sliding onto a stool at his table.

"Hello, Blaise. How was your holiday?" Harry said, trying to put on his best friendly face.

"The hell do you want, Potter?" Blaise replied to the pleasant question.

Harry took a quick breath and leaned closer to Blaise. "Have you heard anything from Draco lately?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so concerned with him? Showing up at St. Mungo's, asking me…"

"Answer my question," Harry gently demanded.

Blaise looked at Harry for a moment, before relenting. "I saw him just before I came back here. He was at home."

Harry's heart leapt within him: he was out of the hospital! What relief. "That's great," he said quickly to Blaise. "Did he tell you when he'd be coming back here?"

"He said he'd be here the same day as everyone else. I dunno why he's not back yet."

Harry's heart suddenly plummeted to his feet. "You've not heard from him?"

Blaise only shook his head. Harry retired slowly back to the table with Ron and Hermione. His heart was pounding in his ears. Hermione gripped his arm very tightly as he related to them shortly what Blaise had told him.

"Blimey," Ron whispered, running a hand through his hair. They all sat in a stunned silence; even Hermione was without comforting advice.

All of a sudden, Harry grabbed his bag from off the table and stormed out of the classroom. He ignored his two friends calling after him, and headed straight for the Headmaster's office.

He found the Headmaster just exiting the spinning staircase into the hall. "Professor!" Harry called, as Dumbledore started walking swiftly down the hallway.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dumbledore saw him and said, "Ah, Harry. Come and walk with me. How was your holiday?"

"It was fine," Harry returned, jogging a bit to keep up with Dumbledore's long quick strides. "Listen, sir, I have something I need to speak with you about."

"And what's that, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, as they both walked down the main stairs into the entrance hall.

"I'm worried about…" The words died in Harry's throat as he saw who was standing in the entrance hall: Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy, and (his heart sped within his chest) Draco.

"Welcome back to school, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, moving forward to shake Draco's hand. "I trust that you're feeling better."

"Yes. Thank you, sir," Draco replied, his voice small.

As Dumbledore warmly greeted Narcissa, Harry sank onto the steps, not trusting his legs to hold him upright for much longer. Draco was staring at him from across the wide hall. Dumbledore was saying something to the group of them, but Harry heard not the words shared; he was staring back at Draco.

After some time (it could have been seconds or minutes; Harry couldn't tell), Draco's trunk was magicked off toward the dungeons, Dumbledore was walking back up the steps, and Snape was escorting Narcissa to the school's front gates, leaving the two students alone in the entrance hall.

Draco walked across the hall toward him, his footsteps echoing against the high ceiling. He stopped a few feet from Harry, and looked down at him where he sat on the bottom step. Harry looked up at him.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Draco asked.

"What?" Harry replied.

"Potions?" Draco said, sitting down stiffly on the step, his body only inches from Harry's. "Shouldn't you be there?"

"Er… yeah. How did you know?"

"Harry," Draco looked at him pointedly, "we've had that class together all year."

"Oh. Right."

As silence descended upon them, Draco stretched his legs out straight in front of him, sighing. He propped his elbows on the stair behind them, leaning back. Harry found his eyes skipping along Draco's long, lean body; he forced his gaze onto the blond's face. Draco was staring absently at the wooden front doors of the castle.

Harry swiveled his body, so he was leaning against the banister, facing Draco. He hugged his knees to his chest, and asked, "How are you?"

The Slytherin turned his head to face Harry. "I'm fine," he said with no emotion.

"Fine?" Harry qualified. "So, you're not in pain anymore?"

Draco shook his head, "Not much."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

Harry's heart gave a small jump as he realized Draco was absentmindedly tugging on Harry's shoelace. The blond's gaze was across the hall again.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Why weren't you back at the start of term?"

Draco sighed, closing his eyes. "Mother kept me at home a few extra days to make sure I was alright and well rested. If she had her way, I'd probably never be out of her sight again."

Harry swallowed hard as the thought ran through his head that he and Narcissa Malfoy had that characteristic in common. He stared at the boy in front of him, noticing how thin he'd gotten that year. His strong cheekbones jutted out against his pale skin. His light hair was swept perfectly back, not one strand out of place, as always. In his mind, Harry was reaching forward, running his hands through the perfect blond locks, pulling Draco's pale face toward his…

"So, why aren't you in class?"

"I was just restless. I didn't want to be there."

Draco nodded in understanding.

"I'm glad you're back." Harry turned red the moment the words escaped from his mouth.

Draco didn't notice his blush, though, as he said, "Well, that makes one of us."

The tall doors before them creaked open. Professor Snape re-entered the castle, shaking snow from his cloak. Seeing the two sixth years seated on the steps, he said, "Draco, I need to have a word with you."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his head of house before saying, "Alright, sir."

Harry stood up from the stairs; Draco looked up at him, and asked, "A hand?"

Harry quickly extended his arm, grabbing on to Draco's hand; he gently pulled the blond up from the step. Draco expelled a shaky breath as he straightened, his thin fingers gripping Harry's strongly. Harry placed his other hand on Draco's shoulder, steadying him on his feet.

Draco looked down the few inch gap between their faces, and whispered, "Thanks." He pulled away from Harry's touch and followed Snape down into the dungeons.

Harry stood, alone, in the middle of the entrance hall, his heart pounding. He turned, walked across the hall, and pulled open the doors to outside. Slipping into the frigid air, Harry took a deep breath. The wind buffeted him, chilling his skin beneath his school robes. A smile slid across his face, as he thought, _He's back. He's ok._ The tips of his ears started to go numb.

Shivering, Harry stepped back inside the castle. He retrieved his bag from where he'd dropped it at the base of the stairs. Slinging it over his shoulder, he ascended the stairs, not sure where he was going. His heart was still racing, his cheeks red, adrenaline coursing throughout his body.

His feet led him automatically to Gryffindor tower. He dropped his bag in his room, and changed out of his robes into jeans and a sweatshirt. Pulling his Firebolt from his trunk, he raced down to the Quidditch pitch to blow off some emotion.


	8. We were certainly uncertain

Over the next weeks, Harry was reminded what a stress release flying was for him. With classes speeding up and his emotions tending to run amuck anytime he saw Draco in the hall, in class, at meals, Harry clung to flying in order to keep him sane. Quidditch practices weren't enough. Harry wasn't sure how he managed all his schoolwork, practice, meetings with Dumbledore, and flying on the side, but nothing was falling apart yet. He owed some of that to the half blood prince: he skated through Potions lessons and assignments with ease.

Since Draco had gotten back to school, Harry hadn't had a real chance to talk to him. The blond was in classes, though, and Harry slyly observed him during meals. Blaise was never far from his side, which caused Harry's stomach to clench. Once, he had stumbled upon them in the hallway: the pair was only talking, but Blaise's hand was resting on Draco's waist, and Draco was staring at him in a way Harry had never seen the blond look at anyone else. Harry had fled the scene, feeling tears pricking at his eyes.

One afternoon, Harry and Ron headed down to the pitch together, broomsticks slung over their shoulders. Ron wanted some extra keeper practice, and Harry had promised to try and score on him for as long as Ron needed. Really, though, Harry was just looking forward to flying.

Upon reaching the pitch, Ron hopped onto his broom, zooming up to the goalposts. With broom still shouldered, Harry made his way into the locker room to grab a quaffle. The locker-lined room was warm, and Harry was surprised to hear a shower running: apparently, someone else had been flying outside of Quidditch practice, too.

Harry knelt in front of the box of practice balls, digging through trying to find a decent quaffle. He ears perked up when he heard the water shut off in the shower room. His hands closed around a good red ball, and he tugged it from the box.

As the sphere came free, he heard a voice from behind him that made his stomach jump into his throat: "You stalking me, Harry?"

Harry turned his head, knowing who he would see behind him: Draco stood, his pale skin beaded with drops of water, clad only in a white towel slung low about his thin hips. His hair was wet and dripping, hanging down in front of his eyes.

"Stalking you? Never," Harry replied, rising from his knees. As he stood, his eyes dipped and he found himself starring at the pale red scars latticed over Draco's chest. Harry's breath caught in his throat: he had almost forgotten the torment Draco had gone through.

Harry was beside the blond, not entirely sure when he had gotten so close. He ran his fingers over one of the scars which spanned from Draco's shoulder to his collarbone.

"Are you doing alright?" Harry asked softly, his eyes still on Draco's body.

Draco reached up and tipped Harry's chin so he was looking into the blond's blue eyes. "I'm well," he said. Harry swallowed, painfully aware of the contact of Draco's fingers on his face, of the proximity of their bodies, of Draco's current lack of clothing…

Not trusting himself to restrain from doing something rash, Harry pulled away from the boy he loved. Draco walked a few feet away, toward where he clothes were piled on a bench. Harry respectfully turned away as Draco began dressing.

"So," Harry said, after half a minute, "how's Blaise?" The tightness in his voice almost betrayed the swell of jealousy churning in his stomach as he muttered the Slytherin's name.

"Blaise?" Draco questioned. "He's fine."

Harry turned to look at Draco again. He was clad in a green sweater, and dark jeans which clung to his thin legs. His hair was still wet and disheveled: Harry loved it.

"Why d'you ask about him?" Draco asked, running a hand through his wet locks, sweeping most of the hair back off his forehead: one strand escaped and fell down in front of his eyes, though.

Harry sank onto the bench beside him, knees weak. "Well," he quickly stammered out, "you two just seem pretty happy together, so I thought I'd ask."

"Happy together?" Draco asked. He spanned the distance between them, straddling the bench Harry was seated on: his feet were bare against the locker room floor. "What do you mean?"

Harry swallowed, not looking at him, feeling his cheeks grow hot. "Aren't you two, you know, together?"

"Harry Potter," Draco said with much force. Harry turned and looked at him. "I am _not_ dating Blaise."

Harry's mind was screaming with joy as loudly as it could, but he said composedly, "Oh, you're not?"

"No," Draco said, cocking his head. "I can't believe you would think I was."

"Why?"

It was Draco's turn to blush: a slight pink appeared in the center of each of his cheeks. "It's just… not true, is all."

"Good to know," was all Harry could say.

They sat quietly for a few moments, watching each other.

Harry broke the silence: "Dray?"

"Yes, Harry?" Draco replied, looking expectant.

"What happened to you in the forest?"

Something seemed to shatter behind Draco's eyes. He stared at Harry for a moment, lips parted. The blond finally forced his gaze away from Harry's, and said, "Just a slight reprimand."

"What?" Harry said, his pulse quickening. "A reprimand for what? Who did that to you, Draco?"

"Doesn't matter," Draco said, his eyes hard. He stood up from the bench, walking across the room, away from Harry.

But Harry wasn't going to let him go that easily. Dropping the quaffle onto the ground, he hurriedly followed Draco, gripped his shoulder, turned the taller boy to face him.

"It does matter. What happened?"

"Harry, I-" His voice broke: he took a moment to steel himself. Then, without emotion, he continued, "I needed to be reminded of my position in life, to receive a small taste of what will happen if I fail…"

"If you fail what, Dray? Who was punishing you?"

"Harry! What the bloody hell is taking you so long?" Ron's voice exploded into the room. Draco and Harry both automatically took a step apart from one another. Harry scooped the fallen quaffle off the ground, and threw it at Ron's head as he came through the door.

Ron nimbly caught the red ball, and said, "You coming, mate?" When he saw Draco's back facing him, a small bit of understanding dawned on Ron's face.

Harry grabbed his Firebolt, and pushed past his best friend onto the pitch. Jumping onto the broomstick, he kicked off the ground as hard as he could, zooming up toward the clouds, feeling the wind steal breath from his lungs. He kept rising until the cold was too much to take; he turned his broom back down to earth and slowly descended.

Ron met him in the sky, twenty feet above the stadium's highest seats.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Ron was stammering. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, Ron. Don't worry about it," Harry said, hands twisting on the shaft of his broomstick. "Let's just practice, yeah?"

"You're sure?" Ron asked earnestly.

"I'm sure."

Ron tossed him the quaffle, and sped off to the goalposts. Harry took a deep breath in, and forced all his concentration into scoring on Ron.


	9. Tears stream down your face

After their conversation in the locker room, Harry seemed to see Draco less and less. The blond began to miss class, and he was mysteriously missing from the Great Hall during meal times. When he did show up for the classes he and Harry shared, Harry noticed that he looked tired and almost ill. And once in Potions, when Draco had his sleeves rolled up, Harry saw the vestiges of old bruises spanning his arms.

Whenever they passed in the hallway, Harry tried to stop him to talk, but Draco would only give him a small smile and keep walking. Harry was distraught: Draco had come so close to revealing the whole truth about what had happened to him in the woods. Harry was certain it had something to do with the Death Eaters. But his thoughts on this were soon vanished when horror struck close to home.

Ron's birthday.

A hidden love potion.

Seeking a cure from Slughorn.

A toast.

A collapse.

A lucky bezoar.

And a best friend in the Hospital Wing.

Harry, with the help of the invisibility cloak, snuck up to the Astronomy Tower that night. Tears were flowing before he'd even made it all the way up the stairs. Curling against the stone wall, Harry made no effort to conceal the sobs wracking his frame.

A voice startled him momentarily from his sadness: "Who's there?"

It was Draco. He had been standing on the fair end of the tower, staring over the grounds. Through his tears, Harry had been blind to him when he'd first arrived. Draco followed the sound of crying, kneeling beside Harry. He gently reached forward until he felt the body in front of him. He gripped the invisibility cloak and pulled. Harry was revealed in utter sorrow.

"Harry," Draco said in surprise and concern. "What's wrong? Oh, Harry…"

Harry's face crumpled, and he could not control the tears pouring from his eyes. Suddenly, Draco's thin arms were surrounding him. The blond pulled Harry as close as he could, holding him, whispering soothing things into his hair. Harry cried openly into his chest for a few minutes before he could compose himself enough to speak.

He pulled back from Draco, but only slightly. Taking off his glasses, he wiped his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. Draco softly pushed his hair back off his forehead.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked, still holding the smaller boy in his arms.

"Ron was poisoned today," Harry managed to hiccup out.

Draco pushed him back, looking into his face. "What? Poisoned? How?"

"Slughorn gave him some mead, and it was poisoned." Harry was still finding it hard to breathe. "Dray, I came so close to losing him. To losing Ron…"

"Poisoned mead that Slughorn had?" Draco echoed weakly. He paled (if that was even possible). All of a sudden, he was pushing Harry away and scrambling onto his feet. Harry looked up helplessly as Draco was sick over the wall. He retched again and again until he was only dry heaving.

After several minutes, Draco sank back down the wall to sit beside Harry again, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he whispered to Harry, tears shaking in his eyes. Harry slipped his arm around Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer. The blond's hands were violently shaking in his lap.

"I am so, so sorry," Draco said, unable to look at Harry.

Harry nodded, two more tears sliding down his cheeks.

Draco took a deep breath in through his mouth. "He's ok, though?" he asked, after swallowing painfully.

"Ron? Yeah. He's in the Hospital Wing, but he'll be fine."

Draco opened his mouth, as though to say something, but all of a sudden he was bent double, sobbing. Harry looked at him in saddened surprise. It was now his turn to hold Draco while he cried.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry," Draco kept repeating over and over again.

"Shh, Dray, shh," Harry whispered to him. "It's ok. You didn't do anything."

"No, you don't understand," Draco said, abruptly pulling away from Harry's embrace.

"What don't I understand?"

"You… you…" he was stammering, "I… Harry…" Draco scrambled up from the floor, and turned to walk away. "I'm sorry, Harry."

As he was leaving, Harry cried out, "Dray!"

The blond stopped, turning his head back to see Harry looking small and broken on the stone floor.

"Please don't just leave me here all alone," Harry whispered.

Draco turned his head back around, and Harry was left staring at his back. Draco's shoulders shook slightly, and he crossed his arms over his stomach. But after a moment of hesitation, he turned back around and resumed his place on the floor beside Harry.

Harry crawled back into his arms, still half wrapped in the invisibility cloak. Draco shivered once, resting his cheek against the top of Harry's head. Harry could feel the blond's thin body shaking, and he knew it wasn't all from the cold. Harry was warm in his arms, though, and exhausted from his tears and the excitement of the day. His eyes fell closed as he nestled closer to Draco.

Harry was half-awakened some time later, by Draco shaking his shoulder. "Harry?" was whispered into his hair.

"Hmm?" Harry hummed back, still trying to sleep.

"Harry, it's freezing. C'mon, you should sleep in your bed."

Roused by this, Harry sat up slightly, gripping Draco's arms. "Don't leave me."

Draco's pale skin almost glowed in the moonlight. His jaw quivered gently as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering. The shadows beneath his blue eyes were terrifyingly dark.

"I'm not leaving you," Draco said, pulling Harry who was still heavy with sleep to his feet. "I know a place we can go."

Harry rested his head against Draco's shoulder as he led him down the stairs of the tower. Through hallways and doorways, Harry's eyes kept falling closed. Draco's hand was around Harry's waist, and Harry could feel the iciness of his fingers through his sweater.

"Stand here," Draco instructed quietly, releasing his hold on Harry. The Gryffindor swayed on his feet, finding the wall of the corridor to lean against. He watched through half open eyes as Draco paced back and forth, silently mouthing words. A door appeared in the wall of the hallway. _Room of Requirement_, Harry thought to himself as Draco led him inside.

A small room had appeared, with a couch and a few chairs. A large four-poster bed lay in one corner, and a warm fire was burning in a fireplace in the center of the back wall. Draco locked the door behind them, and helped Harry onto the couch. Harry curled up, pulling the invisibility cloak up over his head for comfort. He watched Draco kneel in front of the fire, still shivering, holding his hands out to the flames.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes, pulling the cloak off, seeing Draco looking frantically for him. Upon seeing him reappear on the couch, Draco placed a hand over his heart, sinking into one of the overstuffed armchairs.

"Don't do that to me," Draco reprimanded.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, Dray."

Draco looked at him sternly for a moment before cracking a grin. It was a beautiful thing to behold. Draco watched him lying there on the couch for a minute, before saying, "You should get some sleep."

Harry nodded, and said, "So should you."

Draco returned Harry's nod, saying, "I'll just kip on the couch."

"No, Dray, come on," Harry said, sitting up. The invisibility cloak slid all the way off of him and lay in a puddle of silver on the ground. "You look as though you're about to collapse from exhaustion. That bed is huge. We can both fit."

A bright spot of color appeared in the center of each of Draco's pale cheeks. But after a few more minutes of Harry's coercion, he agreed to share the bed. Both sixth years walked over to the bed, shedding their shoes and outer layers of clothing. Climbing into the large bed, Harry felt his eyelids immediately grow heavy. Setting his glasses on the table beside the bed, he snuggled into his pillow, curling his knees up toward his chest. He was asleep almost before Draco had even crawled under the covers.

* * *

Harry woke in the middle of the night to Draco thrashing in his sleep. Bleary eyed and half blind, Harry shook the blond's shoulder, trying to rouse him. The room was cast in shadows from the fire which had burned down low.

"Draco," Harry said firmly when the boy didn't awaken at his touch. But he was still twisting in the bed, eyes shut tightly. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin. Harry sat up in bed, and shook Draco more vigorously, trying to free him from his nightmare.

"Dray, wake up!"

The blond's eyes shot open and he abruptly sat up in bed, breathing hard. Harry touched his cheek gently, guiding Draco's eyes toward his own.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked, his fingers brushing against the stubble lining Draco's chin.

"Just…dreaming," Draco replied, trying to catch his breath. "Oh my word," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. His shirt stuck to his chest with sweat.

Harry leaned back, propping his body up with his elbows. "What were you dreaming about?"

Draco quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. He looked down at Harry and said, "I dreamed the Dark Lord was killing you and making me watch."

Harry's heart felt like it stopped in his chest. He stared at Draco, mouth open, unable to grasp anything to say.

Seeing his shock, Draco turned away, quickly mumbling, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you." He pushed back the covers, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Harry sprung forward, wrapping his arms around Draco's chest. He pulled him back into the bed.

"I'm sorry you dreamt that. It's horrible," Harry said, while pulling the sheet back over Draco, not letting him leave. "I have nightmares a lot, too. I hate it."

Draco nodded morosely, crossing his arms on top of his knees as he sat up on the mattress. Harry let himself fall back down onto his pillow, reveling in the comfort of the bed. He reached up and tugged on Draco's elbow.

"Try to get some more sleep, ok?" he pleaded with the blond.

Draco took a deep breath in, and carefully laid back down, resting on his side, facing Harry.

"It's ok. It was just a dream," Harry tried to reassure him.

"I know," Draco said, almost inaudibly, and closed his eyes.

Harry was tempted to scoot forward and hold Draco in his arms until they were both asleep again, but he restrained, curling back into a ball and falling back asleep.


	10. I'm sorry if I tried to push you away

Harry woke slowly in the morning, naturally coming out of his deep sleep. Finally sliding his eyes open, he threw his arms above his head in a wonderful stretch. Seeing that Draco wasn't beside him, Harry sat up, pushing on his glasses.

Draco was seated across the room on the couch, staring at the fire which had been built up again. The blond was fully dressed, his hair immaculate as always. Harry pushed himself out of bed, pulling on his robes from the day before, and joined Draco on the couch.

Harry noticed that the translucent skin beneath Draco's eyes still looking bruised. "Did you sleep much?" he asked, touching Draco's knee for a moment.

The blond shook his head, not looking at Harry. He motioned toward a tray heavily laden with food which sat on the low table in the middle of the room. "Grab some breakfast," he told Harry.

Harry's stomach growled at the sight of so much food: Draco must have gone down to the kitchens already that morning. He slid onto the floor, sitting cross-legged beside the table. Grabbing a plate, Harry saw that none of the food looked as though it had been touched. He looked back up at Draco, who was still staring into the flames. His long thin fingers were cupped around a mug of tea, which he sipped from occasionally. Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice, and asked, "Did you already eat, Dray?"

Draco just shook his head again.

"Then get down here and eat with me, silly," Harry said, playfully tugging at Draco's pant leg.

Draco met his eyes for the first time. "I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. You have to eat. Come on."

Draco reluctantly slid onto the floor beside Harry, watching him tuck into a plate full of sausages. When Harry scowled at him for just sitting there, he nibbled on some toast. Harry piled a plate with food and pressed it into Draco's hands. The blond looked overwhelmed by the amount Harry wanted him to eat.

Harry laughed at the expression on Draco's face. "Eat," he demanded. Draco consented, taking a few bites. Harry put down his fork in order to watch Draco eat. "You've gotten so thin this year," he mused allowed.

Draco shrugged one shoulder, swallowing. "I've not been in the mood, I guess."

"Hey, d'you want to come up and visit Ron with me after we eat?" Harry asked suddenly.

Draco's eyes widened. He set his plate on the floor beside him, and said, "I don't know, Harry."

"Come with me, please," Harry asked, looking up at Draco with bright green eyes shining.

"Ok," Draco said with a small voice.

They continued eating in silence. Harry couldn't help but smile as he realized he and Draco had somehow become friends since the blond had returned to school. Civil conversations, raw emotion; hell, they had even shared a bed. _Technically,_ Harry thought to himself, trying to suppress a wicked grin from flitting across his lips, _I've now slept with Draco._

Harry's smile faded as he looked up at Draco. The blond was sipping at his tea again, gaze cemented on the flames crackling in the fireplace. He was so thin, and looked so exhausted. His mouth was in a small frown, his shoulders slumped.

_Poor love,_ Harry thought. _I wish I could take away whatever it is that's making you so sad. I wish we could just run away together._

Harry scooted closer to Draco, abandoning his food. He reached up and mussed Draco's hair. The Slytherin's hands flew to his head, trying to combat whatever Harry was doing. "What the hell, Harry?" he said, laughing.

"You should wear your hair like this," Harry said, pulling some strands down around his face, in front of his eyes. "It looks better."

Draco pursued his lips. "It looks fine the way it is." He swept the blond locks back into their original position. Harry pouted, and Draco said, "Your hair is messy enough for the both of us."

Harry smiled, and before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed Draco on the mouth. Draco stiffened when Harry's lips met his own, but he seemed to melt, and slid his hands around the back of Harry's neck. Harry's own hands were shoved deep in Draco's hair; he tried to part Draco's lips with his tongue, but Draco pulled away from him.

The blond's cheeks were burning red, and he stared at the floor for a moment, breathing quickly. Suddenly, he was on his feet and heading for the door.

"Draco!" Harry called from his seat on the ground, looking up helplessly.

Draco looked back; there were tears shining in his eyes. He looked as though he wanted to say something to Harry, but all he could do was shake his head before leaving Harry alone in the Room of Requirement.

Harry scrambled to his feet, chasing after him. Pulling open the door, he shouted out, "Dray!" The empty hallway echoed his call back to him. Harry jogged down the passage way, his heart pounding, one hand over his mouth as if to hold to the feeling of Draco's lips against his. He came to an intersection of stairs, and knew he had little hope of catching up to Draco in the maze of the castle.

Heart falling, he turned around and trudged up to the Hospital Wing. He found Hermione sitting beside Ron's bed, reading her Potions book. Ron was sound asleep, his mouth open. One of his hands was resting suspiciously close to Hermione, and Harry thought they'd probably been holding hands before Ron fell asleep. Harry sighed, and dropped into the chair beside Hermione.

"How is he?" Harry asked, nodding down at his best friend.

"He's doing well. How're you, Harry?"

Harry glanced quickly up and down the long row of beds to make sure they were very much alone. Then, he turned to Hermione and said in a low voice. "Draco and I kissed, and then he ran away."

"What?"

Harry reluctantly told her the entire story, including the Astronomy Tower, spending the night together, Draco's nightmare, and the kiss. Hermione's book had fallen, forgotten, into her lap.

"And then he just left?" she qualified.

Harry nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"And you didn't ask him anymore about what happened to him?" she asked.

"No. I was a little bit preoccupied."

"Harry, I know you love him. But we have to find out what happened to him. Whoever attacked him could be planning an attack on other students. It could be a Death Eater. We have to know that in order to protect ourselves and Hogwarts. And I really think that you are the only one Draco will tell. You have to try to get him to tell you."

"He's not exactly an open book, Mione. You should see the look he gets on his face when I bring that up. It's as though he's breaking inside."

"I know, Harry, and I'm sorry. But you've got to try."

Harry ran both hands back through his hair. "Ok, I'll try."

"Good. Maybe give him a little space first, though."

Harry gave a weak laugh, slumping in his chair. He looked down at Ron's sleeping form. "Draco was so upset when I told him about Ron."

Hermione looked at him. "That's because he cares for you. He doesn't want to see you hurting."

A small smile played across his lips, and he sat looking down at Ron, reliving the kiss in his mind over and over again.


	11. He will admit to anything

Over the next few days, Harry searched endlessly for a time to talk to Draco. But the Slytherin was seldom in classes, never at meals, and seemed to disappear from the castle entirely at points, according to Harry's searches of the Marauder's Map. The few times Harry caught him in the hallway, Draco turned bright red and hurried quickly away.

"Where is he?!" Harry almost growled, throwing the map onto the ground.

"Relax, mate," Ron said from where he was reclined on his bed, trying to study Defense Against the Dark Arts. "He's probably hiding from you."

Harry glared at his best friend, ignoring the smirk on the redhead's face. Ron shut up his book, and leaned toward the floor, scooping up the map from where it had fallen.

"You've really gotten very thick, haven't you?" Ron asked, his eyes stayed on the map.

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because Malfoy's right here," Ron answered, pointing to a spot on the parchment.

"What?!" Harry launched off his bed and was beside Ron in an instant. Sure enough, a tiny dot labeled _Draco Malfoy_ was located in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

"Brilliant. Thanks, Ron." Harry was already running out the door of their dormitory.

"Tell him hi from me!" Ron called after him, before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

Harry raced through the hallways, up staircases, desperate to catch Draco before he disappeared again. A stitch growing in his side, he burst through the lavatory door and saw the blond standing before him.

To Harry's heartbreak, he saw that Draco was bent over a sink, crying. His hair was disheveled, and his thin shoulders violently shook with sobs. Harry quietly locked the door, not wanting anyone to walk in on them.

"Dray?" Harry said gently, stepping forward.

Draco whirled at the voice, pulling out his wand, tears staining his cheeks.

"Draco, it's ok. It's just me," Harry said, holding up his hands. Draco still held his wand, slightly shaking, pointed toward Harry's chest. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" Draco's voice was hoarse.

"Because I care about you," Harry answered.

Fresh tears leaked from Draco's eyes. "Can you please just go back to hating me?"

Harry shook his head. "Why would you want me to?"

Draco closed his eyes, trying to steady his wand hand. "It would make things so much easier."

"Dray, please just talk to me," Harry said, trying to get closer to the blond. But Draco sent a hex in Harry's direction, his shaking hand making the spell swing wide, crashing into the wall.

"Get away from me, Potter," Draco growled.

Harry winced at the use of his last name, the loathing coming from Draco's voice. It hurt more than a curse. Draco sent another hex at him, but Harry jumped out of the way, pulling out his own wand.

"I'm not going to leave you alone," Harry said, his words calm. But within his chest, his heart was pounding painfully fast against his ribs.

"Please hate me," Draco said through his teeth.

"Never."

Another hex. Another dodge.

"I poisoned Ron!" Draco screamed across the bathroom.

Harry stopped trying to get near the blond. "What?"

"I poisoned the mead. I gave it to Slughorn," Draco said, his voice without waver. Harry knew he wasn't lying. He felt like his world was collapsing around him. All he could hear was a loud rushing in his ears. _This is not happening._ Draco was raising his wand again, but Harry beat him to it.

"Sectumsempra!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

Draco buckled as blood suddenly exploded from his chest. He stared at Harry, eyes glazing for a moment. Then his wand fell slowly from his hand, tapping onto the damp stone floor. And Draco collapsed beside it, hands working at the wound, breathing harsh.

Harry's own wand slipped from his fingers. He was on his knees beside Draco, pulling the blood-soaked boy into his arms. "No, no, no," he sobbed, as Draco started to slip from consciousness. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Dray. I'm sorry."

The blond started to slightly convulse in his arms. Harry laid back his head and screamed for help. Not half a moment later, the locked door was blasted open, and Snape stood in the doorway. He strode toward the students swiftly, and ran his wand over Draco's wounds, quelling the flow of blood. His black eyes bored in Harry's as the professor helped Draco sit up.

"Come on, Draco. To the Hospital Wing," Snape said, supporting the injured blond as he helped him stand. Still on his knees, pulse pounding in his ears, Harry watched them go. He lowered his head into his hands, and felt himself break.

_Draco almost killed Ron. I almost killed Draco. Everything is collapsing._

Harry refused to let himself cry, though. He looked up, eyes taking in the blood stained floor and the two fallen wands. He grabbed his own, shoving it into his pocket, and gently picked up Draco's wand. He stood unsteadily, and walked away from the battle scene.

He took the familiar path to the Hospital Wing, set on returning the wand to its rightful owner. Entering the infirmary, he found it empty. One bed was surrounded by high curtains, and Harry walked toward it silently. He paused and slowed at the buzz of voices coming from behind the fabric. He sank onto an empty bed, and listened.

"… if you would only let me help you," Snape was saying.

"I don't need your help," Draco answered, voice weak.

"Need I remind you that _he_ is not pleased with your progress thus far?"

"I know."

"And soon, he'll send Bellatrix to finish the job she started in the forest. Draco, I promised your mother I would protect you. But if he sets out to kill you, there's no protection I can offer you. Be very careful."

"I will, sir," came Draco's small voice.

Harry heard the legs of a chair scrape against the floor. He quickly jumped off the bed, flattening himself on the ground, rolling underneath the bed, hiding himself from view. Snape appeared from behind the curtains, and swept from the Hospital Wing.

Harry scooted out from beneath the bed and snuck around the curtains. Draco was lying propped up by pillows in bed. He was pale and shaking but no longer bleeding. He stared at Harry as the Gryffindor sunk into the chair beside him.

"The poison wasn't met for Ron," Draco said, biting his lower lip.

"Bellatrix Lestrange attacked you in the Forest," Harry stated back.

"I would never hurt him, because I know how much it hurts you."

"She was punishing you on Voldemort's orders."

"I wish I could take it all back."

"You're a Death Eater."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Harry held out Draco's wand to him. Draco took it with a shaking hand. He rolled up his left sleeve, pointed the wand at his forearm and muttered a few words. The concealment charm vanished and Harry was left staring at the Dark Mark burned into Draco's pale, perfect skin.

Harry shook his head sadly. "Why are you doing this?"

"I have to," Draco said, his voice shaking with tears. "The Dark Lord will kill my family, everyone I love, unless I do as he says."

"Dray, you're stronger than this. With Dumbledore's protection-"

Draco grabbed Harry's arm at the mention of Dumbledore. "No! Harry, I have to do as he says. If I don't… if I don't, he'll kill you." Draco collapsed into tears.

Harry sighed, and crawled into the bed with him. He took Draco in his arms, trying to soothe his sobs. "Love," he whispered against the side of Draco's head, "he's been trying to kill me for my entire life. Nothing you do can stop that."

"But… I… I couldn't live with myself if I knew I had a part in it," Draco said, his breath calming slightly.

Harry looked at him sadly and gave him a quick, chaste kiss. Draco placed the concealment charm over his Dark Mark again, before looking up at Harry with big, earnest eyes.

"Please," he whispered, "please don't tell anyone about me."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Draco interrupted, saying, "Please, Harry. He'll kill me."

Harry swallowed his words, and breathed, "Ok."

Draco looked relieved. He expelled a shaky breath, as Harry wiped the tears off his cheeks. He lay with Draco until he fell asleep. Then, slipping slowly off the bed, Harry made his way out of the Hospital Wing. Letting his feet lead him as they would, he found himself walking onto the grounds. Sitting beside the lake, Harry hugged his knees to his chest; raising his eyes to the clouds, he begged the sky to tell him what he should do.


	12. Let the good times end tonight

Harry lived the next month in constant worry, watching Draco waste away before his eyes. The blond was still missing from the castle for large chunks of each day according to map searches; Harry was fearful that he was back in the forest receiving more reprimand for whatever he was or was not supposed to be doing. The Gryffindor constantly watched the map, so as to be by Draco's side as much as he could when Harry did know where he was. Whether forcing him to eat or walking to and from class with him, Harry loved to see Draco light up behind his eyes when he saw Harry coming toward him.

They shared a few moments together in abandoned classrooms, exchanging kisses, far from the prying eyes of other students. Harry wondered at the softness of Draco's skin, the perfection of his lips, reveling that he had finally attained what he had spent months dreaming about.

But Harry was also constantly fretful, wanting to help Draco but knowing that he couldn't. The blond was almost skeletal in his thinness, and Harry worried each day that he wasn't taking care of himself enough.

Harry dragged Draco into an empty classroom one day when they were on their way to Transfiguration. Draco smiled as Harry shut the door behind them, coming forward and pressing his mouth against Harry's. Harry slid his arms around Draco's waist, pressing their bodies together.

They came apart a few minutes later, gasping for breath. Draco's cheeks were bright pink, and there was a glimmer of hope hidden behind his blue eyes that Harry hadn't seen in months.

"What's with you today, Dray?" Harry asked, reaching up to cup the blond's face in his hands. "You almost look, dare I say it, happy."

"Course I'm happy," Draco said, looking down at him. "I have you. And everything's going to be ok."

Harry looked deep into Draco's eyes, trying to read that mind. "Everything's going to be ok?"

Draco swallowed hard and nodded. The blond perched on one of the long tables at the front of the classroom. Harry came up in front of him, climbing onto his lap, and pushing Draco onto his back with the force of his kiss.

Minutes passed. Harry finally sat up, looking at his watch. "We are going to be so late for class," he mused, and swung himself off the table. Draco followed him, standing quickly. He gasped quietly, faltering; he would have fallen if Harry had not turned quickly and caught him.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked worriedly, as Draco pressed both hands to the sides of his head.

Draco nodded, his eyes closed. "I just got light headed. I'm fine now." He gave Harry a weak smile. The Gryffindor was unconvinced, but stepped away from Draco, allowing him to stand on his own. Harry started walking towards the door, but Draco's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Harry, you love me, right?"

"You know I do."

"What if I… if I did something _bad_? Would you still love me, then?"

"Dray, I'll love you no matter what."

"Promise me."

Harry strode forward and, standing on his tiptoes, kissed Draco deeply. "Is that promise enough?"

Draco nodded. Harry took his hand, entwining his fingers with Draco's, and led him into the hallway. Class had started a few minutes earlier, so the halls were deserted. Harry and Draco walked along, hand in hand. Harry felt liberated to flaunt their love in the open, even though no one was about to see it. Or they thought no one was about.

A body pushed itself roughly between Harry and Draco, breaking their hand holding. Harry registered the person as Blaise. The Slytherin turned and stuck his face in Draco's.

"You're a fucking traitor," he spat, before walking away.

Draco watched him go, lips parted, eyes downcast.

"Hey," Harry said, taking both of Draco's hands in his own. "Don't listen to him. You're worth so much more than he is."

Draco nodded, looking unconvinced. They continued their trek to Transfiguration.

As the class sat scribbling notes of McGonagall's lecture, Harry's mind raced within him as he watched Draco from across the room. _This has gone too far. I love him, but I don't think keeping his secret is helping him. Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world. He'll protect Draco. We'll figure things out. I just can't deal with this on my own anymore._ He nodded to himself, deciding to go to Dumbledore and tell him that Draco was a Death Eater as soon as class was out.

Harry hurried toward Dumbledore's office directly after class.

_Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black traveling cloak in his arms._

"_Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me."_

* * *

_Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone…_

Harry stood, frozen and invisible, staring up at the terrified face of Draco. The words he exchanged with Dumbledore were muffled in Harry's mind; he could only see Draco's eyes, his fear. _What if I… if I did something bad? Would you still love me, then?_ echoed through Harry's mind. The question still stood: would he love Draco if the boy killed Dumbledore? It was too much to fathom, he thought, as tears slid down his cheeks.

Other Death Eaters appeared. How did they get it?

And finally, Snape.

"Severus, please."

A flash of green.

Harry collapsed to his knees as the petrifying charm broke. Dumbledore dead? Impossible. Harry looked up just in time to see Draco being dragged away by his fellow Death Eaters. No, that was too much. It was all too much. Adrenaline sped through his veins and a numb buzzing filled his ears as Harry staggered to his feet, still hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, and followed the Death Eaters down into the castle.

Mayhem was happening somewhere, with crashes and yells echoing through the stone hallways. The group made their way efficiently downward, unaware of their invisible tagalong. They passed duels and bodies lying crumpled on the flagstone floors. Harry hardly had eyes for any of this, watching the blond head bob along in front of him, held by Snape's side by one claw-like hand around his shoulders.

Once out of the castle, hurrying down the castle stairs, Harry caught a glimpse of Dumbledore's body where it had fallen. Anger filled him to his fingertips and he ripped off the Invisibility Cloak, sprinting after the group of Death Eaters, wanting to avenge, wanting to kill…

He sent a silent stunning spell at the back of Snape's head, but it missed, ruffling his greasy hair as it passed only an inch from his ear. He turned quickly, as did the rest of the dark wizards, drawing wands, ready to face the enemy.

"Traitor!" Harry screamed, feeling his voice rip at his throat. "Backstabbing, two faced, loveless cretin! How could you?"

Snape's eyes were cold. The Death Eaters raised their wands in unison and chanted, "Crucio."

Harry was knocked down by the force of the spell, pain too great handle. He heard a scream, every muscle twitching, back arching, eyes streaming. He was being burnt alive.

The pain stopped. Harry lay panting on the grass, his eyes streaming, catching his breath. He didn't understand: he could still here the Death Eaters screaming the Cruciatus curse, but nothing was affecting him. He stared at the stars for a moment, watching his breath cloud above his mouth, before he had regained enough strength to prop himself up on his elbows.

The Death Eaters were still standing before him, in semicircle, angry streaks of red flowing from their wand tips in response to their calls. The curse had a new victim. Draco stood in front of Harry, shielding him from the unforgivable curse. His neck was arched back, mouth open in a silent scream of agony, body almost lifted off the ground with the strength of the curse.

Harry scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, throwing disarming charms toward the dark wizards. He hit at least one of them, and the cries of "Crucio!" halted. Draco collapsed, falling backwards right into Harry, cascading them both into the ground. The air was ripped from Harry's lungs as his body met the grass. Every muscle in Draco's body was trembling violently: Harry could feel the shakings against his chest. Harry shoved the boy off of himself, getting breathlessly to his feet, wand gripped tightly, ready to fight. But the group of Death Eaters were beyond the gates, were vanishing even as he watched.

Harry let out a wild scream of frustration, of sorrow, of helplessness. He sank back onto the ground, letting tears run over his cheeks, tears for Dumbledore. He couldn't even look at Draco beside him, the blond barely conscious. _How could he? To kill Dumbledore? It was unforgivable, just like the curse._ Harry felt betrayed, abandoned.

But then he felt a cold hand on his arm: Draco was reaching out. Harry looked down at him, and his heart melted. He pulled Draco until his arms, holding the small shaking frame. Draco could barely keep his eyes open, let alone speak.

"He's dead. He's dead, Dray."

Ragged breathing was the only response.

"What's going to happen now?"

Draco shuddered, his eyes rolling back, almost falling out of consciousness. Harry stood, lifting him as gently as he could. He walked back towards the castle, which was finally still – all fighting seemed to have stopped. Harry couldn't wipe the tears from his cheeks with his arms occupied with Draco: they dripped unabated, fogging his view.

"Harry!" He heard the scream almost as soon as he'd crested the steps to the main doors of the castle. Hermione was racing toward him, looking unharmed. "Thank goodness you're ok. What happened to Draco? We think we've stunned all the Death Eaters left in the castle, but some of them escaped. Oh Harry, however did they get into the castle? Dumbledore thought it impossible but they found a way."

"Dumbledore's dead."

"What?" Her eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them before.

Harry shifted Draco's body in his arms; the blond was now shivering, sweat breaking out all over his body. "Snape killed him. He's dead."

Hermione shook her head, eyes filling up with tears.

Harry wanted to say more, tell her about the cave and the horcrux they'd recovered, how Draco had been the one who tried to kill Dumbledore [_tried_], how Dumbledore was true to the very end, had Draco had taken the curses for him, sacrificed himself. But he had run out of words. Hermione took his arm and led him up the stairs, past destroyed portraits and crumpled suits of armor, past holes blasted in the walls, floor, ceiling, past shaking groups of students huddling close together for comfort.

He let her lead him all the way to the Hospital Wing, where they found the rest of the Order. There were choruses of gratitude, everyone happy to see Harry safe. But he was deaf to their words. He gingerly laid Draco down on a vacant bed. The blond's grey eyes were glassy, staring at nothing, body curled up as though to protect itself from any further hurt. Harry looked down at him, sweeping his mussed hair back off his face.

Madam Pomfrey managed to drag herself away from the bed most of the Order was crowded around and came to check on Harry and Draco. "What happened to him?" she asked Harry.

"Cruciatus," was all Harry could get out.

She clicked her tongue in disgust or sorrow, Harry couldn't tell. "He's in shock. He needs rest, quiet, stability." She looked away from her patient and up at Harry, saying, "Seems you could use some of that yourself."

She bustled away, returning a minute later with two goblets of potion. "Sit him up for me?" she asked Harry. He immediately sat on the edge of the bed, gently pulling Draco up into a sitting position, allowing the blond to use Harry's body as a backrest. Madam Pomfrey helped him drink the sleeping potion.

"Some for you too now, Mr. Potter," and she offered the cup. He drained it in one gulp, and lay down right where he was, cradling Draco in his arms.

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth as though to say something, but thought better of it and walked back over to where the Order was crowded.

"Go to sleep," Harry whispered into Draco's hair, and he finally felt the other boy's shaking subside. His taught muscles relaxed and his breathing evened, deepened. Harry allowed the potion to do its work, letting his heavy eyelids slide closed.

* * *

Harry woke, after a dreamless sleep, half a day later. The stirring creature in his arms woke him. Draco looked up at him with clear eyes, wetting his lips with his tongue. Harry kissed him firmly on the forehead, his mind slowly whirling back to awareness, memories of last night assaulting the peace of the quiet infirmary.

"Dray?" Harry said in response to the blond's eyes flooding with tears.

"I'm s-s-so sorry, Harry."

Harry held him. Draco tucked his head into Harry's neck, sobbing.

"I betrayed you. I betrayed everyone. I-I killed…"

"No, you didn't." Harry interrupted. "You didn't kill Dumbledore."

"I as good as killed him."

Harry pushed Draco back, wanting to slap him and kiss him at the same time. "You didn't."

"But I betrayed you. Your trust…"

"My trust remains. Draco, you chose what side you're on last night when you stepped into the path of those curses. You sacrificed yourself for me." Harry slowly convinced himself these words were true as he spoke them.

"I had to. I love you. There was no other option."

Harry smiled sadly. He traced the Dark Mark etched into Draco's forearm, finger cold against his warm skin. So much harm had been done. So much…

But not so much that light could not overpower it.

* * *

A few days after the funeral, they sat in the sun by the side of the lake. Harry was leaning against a tree; Draco was reclined between his legs, his head resting on Harry's chest. Harry ran his fingers through the pale locks again and again. Draco sighed heavily, slumping against the Gryffindor. Harry slid his strong arms around Draco's chest and hugged him, kissing the back of his head.

"Dray, I'm not coming back here next year."

"I know," Draco said unexpectedly.

"You know?" Harry questioned, resuming his stroking of Draco's hair.

"Of course. You're going to go after You-Know-Who."

Harry nodded, saying nothing.

"I'm coming with you."

Harry looked down at the blond in his arms. "No, you're not. I want you here, where it's safe."

Draco twisted in his arms so he could look at Harry's face. "Harry, nowhere is safe. I proved that this year."

"But…"

"You think I'm going to let you run around with Ron and Hermione, having all sorts of adventures without me?"

Harry smiled down at him.

Draco continued, "Besides, you saved me… so many times this year."

"Along with almost killing you."

"That was only one time," Draco grinned up at him. "I need a chance to save you, ok Chosen One?"

"Ok," Harry answered, knowing it was fruitless to argue. Draco turned back around, leaning against Harry's chest again. Harry ran his hands up and down Draco's arms, eyes captivated with the perfect little creature who had somehow made his way into Harry's life.

"I love you," Harry whispered, leaning down so his cheek was against Draco's.

"I love you, too," Draco answered, catching his mouth in a sweet kiss.

"And I always will."

* * *

**A/N**: Hi friends,

This was my first fan fiction. Thanks so much for reading, and for all the reviews: they were very encouraging!

Here's my disclaimer: I own nothing. These characters and places and the like all belong to Miss JK Rowling. I wish I was her.

Chapter titles come from lyrics from Snow Patrol, Augustana, Arctic Monkeys, Death Cab for Cutie, the Killers, Keane, William Tell, Modest Mouse, Coldplay, Tilly & the Wall, the Fray, and the Shins.

Hope you enjoyed it! Love.


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